


In Rememberance.

by milgarion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milgarion/pseuds/milgarion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Harry…" Dumbledore sat down on the edge of Harry's bed, his expression grave. "Harry, can you tell me what year it is."</p><p>There it was, the full alarm bell, ringing loud and clear in his head. He had fucked up royally this time, hadn't he! He searched around in his head for the relevant information, all the time dreading what the headmaster would say in response.</p><p>"Nineteen ninety eight?" he provided, his voice shaky.</p><p>Harry gripped the hem of his shirt while Dumbledore looked at him. Several times the old man opened his mouth as if to say something, but couldn't quite bring himself to come out with it.</p><p>Snape spoke quietly from his corner. "It's two thousand and five."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read these notes:
> 
> This is another piece of work I've brought over from a joint account at fanfiction.net.  
> The main author of this work, Adrienne Turner, sadly passed away whilst writing this, as such it remains unfinished for the most part, i did myself go back to add a chapter mainly at the readers behest, but despite working on it with Ady, i still cannot bring myself to finish her work.
> 
> So i advise you, read it, enjoy it, but just be aware that you will have to make up your own ending. :)

Harry's eyes fluttered open and fixed on a point on the wall opposite.

He sighed.

"Again with the hospital wing!" he muttered dryly, or at least he tried. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and his lips were cracked and sore. He cleared his throat and shifted in the bed, pulling the covers down from his hot skin.

He rolled his head to look out of the window on his left; the sky was the kind of dark where the very last light of the sun was visible on the horizon.

He blinked a few times and scrunched his eyes up, yawning widely as he kicked the blanket down. He rubbed a hand across his face as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Oh God did he ache!

His toes curled at the touch of the cold floor as he pattered his way along the familiar route to the bathroom, he trod quietly in order not to disturb Pomfrey, that woman had a thing about bedpans that Harry thought was unhealthy. He pulled the door open only a few inches, having learnt from previous stays that any further and the door would screech like filch's cat. Harry slipped through the narrow gap and closed the door behind him.

The room remained dark, Harry looked around himself and spied in the half light the little elf like creature sitting high up on a shelf, a small pull switch dangling by the side of it. The creature was clearly asleep. Harry coughed loudly. There was a sharp, startled movement and light flooded the room, Harry raised an eyebrow and smirked at the creature. He assumed the door creaked so much so that it alerted the elf to someone's presence.

After fighting with his night shirt and relieving himself, Harry stood at the sink, hands going back and forth from his face to the tap, cooling his skin with the frigid water. He sighed again and braced himself against the edge of the sink before moodily looking up and glaring at his reflection. Which lasted only for a second before his face contorted into a frown.

There was something different…not obvious, but different.

He was the same, but there was something about his face that seemed a little … unfamiliar.

He turned his head from side to side, running his hands over his cheeks and forehead, he combed his fingers through his hair and got them tangled just like every other time he had tried to do so. He was confused… and in pain, he noticed, as his fingers carelessly probed what felt like a bruise. There was no marking but the sensation remained. He poked it again, just to make sure.

Quidditch!

The idea sprang unbidden into his mind and settled for him all the unsolved answers. For all his skill as a seeker he really was crap at not noticing when he was about to get the shit knocked out of him. He rather fancied that he could remember it this time, he had the definite vision in his mind of seeing the floor rushing up to meet him.

He dried his hands and damned himself, nodding to the elf as he pulled open the door, the light turned itself out and Harry fumbled with the door as his eyes adjusted. He heard a thud.

"Jesus Christ Harry! You scared the hell out of me!"

Harry himself jumped and whirled round to stare into the face of Severus Snape. Stare was the operative word, what else could he do. Even though doubtful about the apparent change that happened to him, there was no escaping the fact that Snape had.

He sounded the same, he even looked the same, but it was the fact that Snape hadn't just torn his limbs apart that alerted him. Harry watched as the other man stooped to pick up his fallen item, a book apparently, and frowned at the sight of Snape's, considerably longer, hair slithering over his shoulder to hang across his face.

Tension began to gnaw at his gut. Things weren't sitting right in his mind and his frown continued to grow. Snape straightened up and looked at Harry, not sneered in a condescending manner, but looked, which alarmed him all the more.

"I was just coming to see you." He said softly, "I imagined you might be waking up around now."

Harry Stared. And Snape stared back. There was an uncomfortable silence in which it seemed that Snape became uncomfortable under Harry's scrutiny.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked. "Does Poppy know you're up?"

Harry just didn't know how to handle this; his brain was running at a thousand miles a minute. 'What the fuck was going on!' seemed to be the favourite at the moment. He glanced around, eyes fixing on a hundred and one different yet familiar objects so he concluded that yes, he was definitely still at Hogwarts.

"I… er." He failed to understand just where he should start.

"You look pale." He heard Snape mutter. Harry flinched and recoiled as Snape reached out to touch him, leaving the other man looking just as confused as he felt. For a moment Snape's expression seemed locked before it slipped to something a little more wary.

"Harry?" he eyed Harry cautiously, lowering his hand.

The informal use of his name shocked Harry beyond recall, and scared the hell out of him. He could almost feel himself begin to panic, it seemed as though he had missed something immense, something so intrinsically blatant and obvious. He felt bewildered and it reflected in his eyes. Snape spoke his name again, a little more concerned this time as he became aware that all was not right with the man before him. Harry felt as tough he needed to sit down, but he wanted answers first.

"What's going on?" he asked, although it came out as more of a demand. There was a flicker of something unrecognizable on Snape's face and Harry once again felt the nervous jolt he had whenever he felt the snark muse present, and added, rather too late, he thought, a meek "Sir."

Harry winced as Madame Pomfrey examined the bruise that he himself had prodded not too long before.

"I'm not really sure…" She muttered quietly to herself, pressing a little harder and causing Harry to hiss through his teeth. Pomfrey uttered a quick apology and stood up, frowning at Harry in a way that made it clear that she thought this whole situation was entirely his own fault and that somehow he deserved this. Harry frowned back at her, and then looked over to the corner where Snape was speaking in hushed tones to the headmaster. Every now and then they would cast quick glances in his direction, they quieted their conversation when Pomfrey joined them, adding her own little worried looks.

Harry was getting pissed off. He had always hated it when people talked about you in front of you, especially in this situation where he thought he was damned within his rights to know just what the hell was going on. He sighed blatantly, hoping to convey his annoyance and pulled a little on the neck of his night shirt.

The conversation in the corner resumed at a normal level and then finished with Dumbledore walking over and standing a little awkwardly in front of Harry, who looked up at him expectantly. Dumbledore paused, as though contemplating what to say. A thought which struck Harry as a little odd, because he had never known the headmaster to be without words.

He coughed a little. "Harry…" he said frankly, looking at Harry's shoulder. "Tell me how it was you came to be in the hospital wing this fine evening."

Harry blinked…What!

"Playing Quidditch," he answered, "I think."

Dumbledore nodded, tracing a finger along his lip. He turned and looked at Snape, who had remained behind in the corner, but within earshot. Snape gave a minute nod. Dumbledore turned back to Harry.

"So you remember being hit by the bludger?" He asked.

"Not really," Harry replied, "But I remember playing, I think I was knocked from my broom. I remember nearly having the snitch and then I was falling."

Once again, Dumbledore turned to Snape who merely gave him a look this time.

"So you were trying to catch the snitch?" the headmaster asked.

Harry didn't know whether to look at the headmaster as though he were stupid. "Yes."

"Tell me Harry… who were you playing?"

The headmasters questioning didn't sit right with Harry at all, but he answered none the less. "Ravenclaw."

"And this is the last thing you remember, nothing after the game?"

Adrenaline poured itself into Harry's blood, making his heart beat faster. Had he missed something? He shook his head, trying to remember anything about being taken to the hospital wing, being made to drink some potion. He had missed something, he knew it. He could tell by the way that the headmaster kept looking back round to the man in the corner, the man whose fingers toyed unconsciously with his shoulder length hair.

"Harry…" Dumbledore sat down on the edge of Harry's bed, his expression grave. "Harry, can you tell me what year it is."

There it was, the full alarm bell, ringing loud and clear in his head. He had fucked up royally this time, hadn't he! He searched around in his head for the relevant information, all the time dreading what the headmaster would say in response.

"Nineteen ninety eight?" he provided, his voice shaky.

Harry gripped the hem of his shirt while Dumbledore looked at him. Several times the old man opened his mouth as if to say something, but couldn't quite bring himself to come out with it.

Snape spoke quietly from his corner. "It's two thousand and five."

Harry stared at him in shock. Could he be lying? It was certainly something that Snape would do. But this Snape… This snape was different. He just leant against the wall, arms folded and looked at him with an expression that Harry couldn't read, unused as it was to seeing something other than complete hatred on the man's face.

"Two thousand and five?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, but the incredulity showed through. Surely that bludger hadn't knocked him out for…

"Seven years?" he asked, "I've been unconscious… for seven years!"

He contemplated this. It would definitely explain his slightly unfamiliar appearance. Even though he had been unconscious for all that time, his body would still have grown, ageing another seven years.

"No." Dumbledore's voice interrupted his thoughts. Harry looked up at the man as he shook his head. "You were only struck this afternoon."

Harry frowned, "I don't understand."

"You were refereeing a game." Snape spoke again, his voice a little louder, "Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor, you got in the path of a bludger."

This information only served to confuse Harry all the more.

"But if it happened this afternoon…then why don't I remember anything."

"That's what we hope to find out." Madame Pomfrey spoke at last, "We'll have to run some tests, get you over to St. Mungo's." she bustled round him, pressing her hand to his head once again which annoyed Harry. He suddenly felt very claustrophobic and overwhelmed.

He'd lost seven years of memories. He tried to imagine the things he had done in those years. Did he pass his newts? What job did he have? Christ! Was he married? He'd have to have a long talk with Ron and Hermione. His stomach felt as though it had fallen out of his body. Ron and Hermione. What would they be like now, how would they take this news.

"Harry, I understand that this is a bit of a shock, but I really think we get you sorted out as soon as possible." Madame Pomfrey was speaking to him. "I'll contact St. Mungo's now and tell them we're on our way. Hopefully they'll be able to shed some light on the matter." She placed her hand fondly on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze in sympathy. Harry watched her as she went into her office.

Silence ensued in her wake. It seemed as though no one quite knew what to say in light of events.

"What date is it?" Harry asked quietly. Dumbledore looked up.

"The sixteenth of July."

Harry nodded in understanding. "So that would make me…?" he frowned a little as he tried to work it out.

"Twenty four." Harry looked up at Snape as he said it. He had moved closer as was sat on the edge of the bed opposite.

"Twenty four." Harry confirmed. Oh God, he was twenty four! It felt like just yesterday that he was seventeen, it was yesterday! What the hell was he going to do! Could he carry on living his life without his memories, could he still work at his job with no recollection of qualifications? If he was married could he go on with the relationship, not knowing who and how he fell in love? Would his friends still see him, he was no longer the grown up Harry they knew. He had essentially de-aged; his mentality was back to that of a seventeen year old. Although that was a bit of an injustice towards himself as he had always thought he'd been very mature for his age. Could he have changed that much in seven years? He felt sick, almost homesick. He wanted this to go away, to wake up in his dorm, to look up at the familiar drapes. He pressed his eyes closed and held his breath. Could you apparate back in time? No.

"Harry?" The headmaster laid a hand gently on his arm, "Are you feeling okay?"

Harry pressed against his eyes with his hands and shook his head. Suddenly he was on his feet and running. The little elf in the corner didn't even have time to pull the switch before Harry was being sick, his knees connecting with the stone floor with such force that the resounding crack echoed off the walls. There was a knock at the door and Harry could hear the headmaster asking if he were okay.

"Fine." He called back. "Just give me a minute."

He stood on shaky legs and held onto the sink as he pulled himself from the floor. He came face to face with himself again. This time he could notice it. The definition of his cheeks and jaw, the finer set of his lips and eyes. All subtle differences that you wouldn't notice over time were all plain to see. He raised his hand to run them over his face once more, but stopped. It was almost as though he were afraid to. It was one thing to see it in a mirror, and here in Hogwarts mirrors couldn't always be trusted. But to actually feel it would be confirmation. He had felt it last time, the slightly rougher feel of his skin, the thicker stubble on his jaw.

He turned the tap and filled the bowl as he stared at himself. Only when it was full did he look away. He leaned forward and dunked his head in the sink, the freezing water achingly cold against his eyelids. It was a much needed wake up. He slung his head back, water arcing through the air and splashing against the back wall as Harry stood there panting.

"See the specialist." He told himself. "They'll sort it out."

Magic was a wonderful thing, he thought, grabbing the door handle and heaving the door open. Dumbledore and Snape stood on the other side, obviously talking about him because they shut up as soon as he reappeared. He brushed his soaking wet hair from his face and gave them a false smile. All three turned to look as madam Pomfrey walked out of her office clutching a piece of paper.

"Dr Makoare." She said, "He'll see us just as soon as we can get there. Here you go," She handed him his clothes, "Get dressed and we'll be on our way."

Harry felt his body flood with relief.

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could feel a serious headache coming on. But then, he was not surprised, what with the amount of head scans that he'd undergone. And now he couldn't seem to shift the slight colour of violet that was affecting his vision in his left eye.

"So" Dr Makoare slid round the side of his desk and settled himself into his chair, sifting through the notes that he had taken. He looked up at Harry. "What you have to understand Mister Potter is that the brain is a very complicated organ, and even with the advances made within the magical community, cases such as this are often a mystery."

Harry looked down at his hands in his lap.

"It could be that this is a very temporary situation and that when you wake up next morning you'll be fine. On the other hand…" the doctor paused.

"I may never remember." Harry supplied, feeling a little bitter.

"Like I said Mister Potter, it's a complicated matter." He regarded Harry with a kind of professional pity. "But in the mean time, I'll put you in touch with a counsellor; she's specialised in cases such as these and may be able to help you recover some memories."

Harry almost resented those words, he felt as though he were some troublesome child that needed a therapist to help him over his 'problems'.

"Also." Said the doctor, getting up and sliding a piece of paper across the desk. "I advise you nip down to our pharmacy and get your hands on some of this." He left the paper on the table for Harry to ignore. "It will help to rebuild synaptic pathways in the brain. Scans indicated that when you received the blow to your temple it shook some loose. This could be some of the cause of your predicament. Also I think you try drinking isotonic drinks to build up electrolytes. Sometimes it's the little things that help."

He sat back in his chair looking immensely smug with himself. Madame Pomfrey moved forward in her seat beside Harry and picked the paper from the table, she scanned the notes and smiled to herself.

"No need to go all the way down to the pharmacy Harry, we can get Severus to make this. That way we can get you home quicker."

But was it home.

Dr Makoare shifted in his seat, lacing his fingers together. "I really recommend getting it from our pharmacy, our potion makers are fully qualifie…"

"But ours is the best in the land." Said Madame Pomfrey, a little too firmly Harry noticed.

"Of course." The doctor replied, but it was painfully obvious he didn't mean it.

"Come on then Harry," Pomfrey stood up and gathered her things, she had gone a little red in the face. "Lets get you home and resting." She all but dragged him from the office, and Harry did her best to keep up as she paced down the hallway to the exit. "I don't know", she muttered, "Some people."

Harry wasn't aware what the hell she was talking about, but at the moment he wasn't sure he could care less.

He stood facing his door. The words 'Harry Potter' blazoned from the gilded plaque. He wasn't a Professor, that was what Dumbledore – sorry, Albus – had said. He just taught quidditch. Which wasn't that bad, quite nice really when he thought about it, just nice, quiet simple job. No running around or pressure from big bosses, just the genial atmosphere of the school. Albus had filled him in somewhat, of his life these past years. He worked at the school, no he wasn't married, didn't even have a girlfriend. He still saw most of his old friends, they liked to come back to the school every now and then, probably for nostalgia. Ron and Hermione still came by, they were both married, but not to each other and neither had children. Ron worked at the ministry with his dad and Hermione taught at the university, advanced arithmancy. Harry enjoyed his life, or so Albus had told him, he got on well with everyone and the children loved him.

The bit that had shocked Harry had been the end of the war. He remembered all the sleepless night's he'd had worrying over the outcome, and in the end, after all the preparation and studying and theories and planning. Harry had just gone and shot him. It was a novel approach. Thought up by Neville of all people. He had commented one day that they should just shoot the bugger and be done with it. Apparently the whole table had fallen silent. It was just something that had never occurred to them before. So when it came down to it, it was just Harry, voldemort and a Beretta.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and yawned again, he let his hand come to rest on the handle. He had to go in some time, these were his rooms. But the thought of what he would find in there unnerved him, so many little reminders that he would not recognize, memories forgotten.

He sighed again and pushed the door forward.

The room was dark, and Harry felt around near the door for a switch. The light turned itself on. Harry looked at where his hand was and failed to notice any switch. He waved his hand back and forth over the wall, the lights flickered on and off. Two bricks in from the door frame, chest height, he noted.

He cast a surveilant gaze over his sitting room, it was a modest affair, not too large, but not small either. It was laid out predictably, with a sofa facing the fire and a chair either side, a coffee table in front so he could place his feet on it and warm his toes. There was a table against the far wall scattered with papers that Harry assumed he used to work on. There was also a bookshelf, although not many books lined it. Which Harry was almost glad to see, he'd never been a big book reader and had been secretly horrified at the thought of turning out like Hermione. Instead other things took up the shelves. He moved over towards it, placing his jacket across the back of the couch. There were photos, there were ones of Ron and Hermione on their respective wedding days, Harry was glad to see that they still looked exactly the same. There were pictures from family gatherings and days and nights out with friends. There was a picture of Harry in his referee uniform striking a very camp pose and grinning madly. Harry smiled at this. There was also a school picture, which surprised Harry as they had never had them when he'd been at school. There they all were, all the years stood in tiers in the great hall with the teachers lined up behind them. Harry took his time looking at all the faces and noting any new or absent ones. There was Albus in the middle, smiling away to himself, and ever present on his right was McGonagal, her frown a little less stern. Most of them were still here, Hagrid took up a good portion of the photo, hooch was still here, making Harry believe that maybe she had applied for an actual teaching position, she was getting a little old to be teaching a rough game like quidditch. And there was Harry, between Snape and Flitwick, who was stood on a stack of books, he laughed a little at the image of the diminutive professor teetering away as though about to fall at any moment. But he couldn't help the way his eyes were drawn to the man on his right.

Could it possibly be that over the years they had stopped their constant bickering and actually become friends? The idea was laughable to Harry, in his mind he was seventeen, and the man still hated him. But Snape had been there, in the hospital wing. He'd even said he'd come to see him, he spoke to him like an adult, like a friend. But what possible reason could there be for the pair of them to overcome their animosity. Harry hated Snape, he'd made his life hell, and he almost felt a little betrayed by himself, as though his best friend had gone of and become friends with the great bat. He let out a sharp laugh at the very idea.

But still he looked at the picture, at Snape. There was something about him, something very…un-Snape like. The cold heartless look had gone from his eye. He still looked exactly the same, just as Harry remembered, but maybe a little less…evil.

Severus sat alone in his workroom, leaning against the bench as he kept a watchful eye on the potion as it neared the final stages. He sighed heavily.

He'd been forgotten.

"Such a big sigh Severus?"

Normally Snape would have been annoyed at the intrusion of the headmaster at a time like this, but right now he didn't seem able to work up the energy. "It will be finished in a couple of minutes albus. But you'll have to wait for it to cool a little before you can take it up." He sat up straighter and dragged a large glass rod towards him with which he stirred the potion, peering into it.

"Are you not taking it up yourself?" Albus enquired genuinely, he wasn't always a manipulating fool.

"I don't think so." Snape replied, setting the rod down again and turning off the flame. He picked the cauldron up using a cloth and set it down on the side. "I don't think I'm the best person for Harry to see right now."

"Oh come now Severus." The headmaster said admonishingly, "You two are good friends, he'll remember that in time."

"Will he?" Severus asked, "He's seventeen again Albus, you remember what he was like then. He hated me."

"Then. He hated you then, but this is now."

"But that is no difference to him," Snape answered, his voice getting a little hard, "he's just a scared schoolboy now." He turned back to pour the liquid into a glass jar put aside.

A heavy silence ensued, broken only by the sound he made as he sealed the jar and labelled it, clearly, he remembered what Harry was like at that age. He set the jar down and stared at it, defeated. He felt an aching emptiness in his chest and he felt desperate for something to fill it. He swallowed thickly. Harry had been his first real friend, someone who had willingly come to him, to talk, to drink, without any prior motive. And in time others befriended him. Harry had effectually brought him out of his dark forboding world, filled with mistrust and lies. Harry had been good to him, had done favours without wanting anything in return, the very idea of this was new to Severus. He had grown up in a circle where nothing was done for free, and often prices came high. But to have this man, the most popular man in the world actually leave a conversation to sit with him. Well, it was unheard of. And Severus had treasured every single moment of it, had come to depend on Harry's kindness like a drug, and over time he had come to see the need to please Harry, he felt as though he would do or say anything just to see that brilliant smile. He felt privileged as they walked down the corridor together, people turning to look as Harry laughed. Then in his mind he became terrified, yet equally excited as he felt himself falling, just looking at Harry would make him feel so safe. And often Albus or Minerva would comment that if he stared any harder then his eyes would fall out. He relished the evenings they had together, when Harry brought them all to his rooms and they sat around drinking and talking and laughing until the early hours, when one by one they would leave until it was just the two of them, and they would play chess, or sometimes just sit and talk a while longer.

It was because of Harry that he wasn't hated anymore. He could remember those dark years when Voldemort ran free, of the inescapable lies he had to weave, even then he longed to join the others, maybe just have someone to talk to. But now…now Harry had made him what he was today, he was no longer the most hated teacher at Hogwarts, in fact most of the students actually liked him. His class was finally a success.

But now, he had been forgotten, by the very person that had made him live.

"He'll remember Severus." The headmaster's voice was quite and comforting in the cold stone room.

Snape nodded and sighed again. He picked up the jar and handed it to the old man. "Will you take this up, please, just tonight."

Albus sensed the pain in his voice and took hold of the jar, he smiled grimly and nodded, heading towards the door, pausing for a moment. "Just remember Severus, you still have us." It was meant to comfort but it made the ache in his chest all the sharper. Severus didn't want them, he wanted Harry.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry sat staring desolately into the fire, his discarded trainers making the room look untidy. He held on his lap a scrap book, its pages lying open with the headline 'Victory' staring up at him. The actual newspaper was neatly folded and slipped into a paper envelope and stuck to the adjacent page. But it was the front page that held him captive. It held a photo of him, stood in what seemed like the aftermath of a chaotic battle, the background and foreground blurred and out of focus. Instead, the sole focus of the image was him. He didn't look at the camera, or even at the people who milled around him. He looked nowhere in particular but it was obvious that images were playing in his mind. He looked haunted, he looked disturbed, he looked horrified. He could make out the backsplash of blood across his face, the black and white image making it appear as though a school boy prank with a quill had been successful. But Harry knew what it was, was sick to his stomach to see an image of himself with Voldemorts blood smeared across his lips and tired face. If he held the paper close enough he could just about make out the tears welling up in his eyes. Harry could only just imagine what it had actually been like, the relief and sudden sense of utter freedom and joy. In a way he wondered how he was still standing.

He read the article again. Apparently the picture had been taken just after the final assault; an elite band of aurors had provided enough distraction in which Harry had taken his opportunity to strike. It detailed the scene and the initial comments from those in the area, but added that there were no official statements yet and that Harry Potter himself had been whisked away to the ministry to provide a witness statement and undergo questioning. Harry frowned at the sentence, it almost sounded as though he were guilty. Guilty of committing a crime that everyone had wanted him to commit. He had always thought that odd, how murder in any form was unacceptable and the highest punishments were laid out, yet there he was. Still a young man at twenty one, and they had expected it of him, it seemed as though he was the only one in the world who could blatantly get away with murder.

Harry's eyes scanned the picture again, and ruefully thought that in a way he was glad he'd forgotten that, judging by the look in his eyes, he had just witnessed some of the most horrifying events of his lifetime.

There was a knock at the door. Harry called for them to come in as he closed the book and placed it neatly on the coffee table. He looked up at the headmaster who had just crept through the door and closed it quietly behind him.

"How are you doing?" he asked, taking a seat on the end of the sofa.

"I'm not sure" Harry sighed, settling back against the soft arm, propping his head in his hand. He eyed the old man, "It's all a little odd… well, unexpected anyway."

Albus smiled in sympathy, "Yes, well, I'm not sure any of us would be quite at sorts if we woke up to find that several years had passed. We'll just have to hope that our options work out." He grinned again and handed Harry the jar he'd been carrying, "In the mean time, Severus has made you this. I think it's best if you drink it and then get to bed, you can never tell with these potions that mess with your mind."

Harry smiled weakly and accepted the jar, looking closely at the label, which had been written in block capitals. Harry frowned again, Snape had done that in his final year, when he'd had to take sleeping draughts to help him through the night. He'd made a snide comment about his reading skills and written out the label in bold writing. Harry hadn't had the nerve to tell the man at the time that it was actually his glasses and that he needed new lenses. It only served in Harry's mind to prove that Snape couldn't have changed that much.

"What am I going to do?" Harry asked flatly. "Where do I go from here." He looked up at Albus who was regarding him with a fondness in his eyes.

"I honestly can't say Harry. Of course you will stay here. Term is over in a week and a half, so there will be no problem cancelling your classes, and after that, we'll see where the summer takes us."

"But what about after, what happens if I still can't remember anything. I can't stay at Hogwarts!" Harry sounded desperate.

"Of course you can," Albus soothed, "I gave you the job without any need for extra qualifications, it was your experience that has proved most useful. Don't worry Harry, everything will be worked out. You're not alone." As he said this he lay his hand on Harry's head, mussing up his hair a little in a very paternal gesture. Harry smiled gratefully. "Now, I think you should drink that up, get yourself to bed, and we'll tackle things afresh in the morning. Hopefully by then Poppy will know when you'll be able to see this counsellor of yours."

He made a great deal of fuss about getting up and gathering his robes around himself before he bade Harry a good night, leaving him alone in his rooms.

Harry peered again at the jar in his hands, still suspicious of anything given to him by Snape. He walked through to the other room. His bedroom, which itself was the size of his old dormitory. His large bed was framed by a window on either side, which he was sure let in a lot of light in the evenings. Although he wasn't high up in the castle, he was on the side that fell precipitously toward the lake and as such had astounding views. Right now the moon was casting it's pale light over the nearby mountains and glassy surface of the water, it hung low in the sky indicating the late hour. He threw the jar onto the bed and pulled his t-shirt over his head, casting it into the corner of the room and undoing his jeans. He slipped under the cover and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. He hoped and prayed about the morning, wishing with all his might that somehow, in dreams he would remember, would sort this all out. He reached out with his hand and retrieved the cool jar and unscrewed the lid. He smelt the liquid experimentally, it smelt of nothing, and tasted of nothing. Harry downed the oddly slimy liquid, licking his lips and trying to get it all out of his mouth. He carelessly placed the empty vessel on the bedside table as he slumped back amongst the pillows.

Harry was glad that he followed the headmasters advice because almost as soon as he had taken it he felt a sort of numb tingling sensation rushing through his head. His eyes fluttered, just as they had earlier this evening, but this time he closed them, and slept.

IVIVIVIVI

He was disappointed the next morning to find that his mind was still as blank as the night before, although he felt a lot clearer and cognisant. The shower had helped and had given him opportunity to examine himself with more scrutiny. His body hadn't changed much but he had gained more definition and had obviously spent some time in the sun recently judging by his tan.

He'd noticed the note shoved under his door on his second perusal of his living room, hoping to somehow jog any memories. It was from the headmaster asking him to come to breakfast. He must have assumed that Harry would have been nervous about such a thing. He glanced at his watch and decided he had enough time to get ready with leisure before making his way down.

His stomach roiled as he heard the low rumble of hundreds of voices talking and gossiping over breakfast, he hung back a little unsure what to do and not wanting to draw attention to himself. He started chewing at a fingernail as he decided what to do when he heard voices behind him. He turned to see Snape and a seventh year ravenclaw speaking in hushed voices as they neared the door. Harry looked about himself but found that there was no where to go and hoped that they would just walk past. But he was in no such luck, Snape slowed his steps as he noticed Harry, his focus leaving the student who was still speaking to him.

They looked at each other, completely unsure what to say to one another. The Ravenclaw finally noticed that his teacher's attention had escaped him and tapered off, looking between the two of them.

"Um…Sir?" he asked.

Snape seemed to snap out of his daze. "Sorry, why don't you get to breakfast, come down to my office later and I'll see what I can do to help." The young boy smiled and thanked him, passing Harry and offering a polite good morning. They stood in silence for a little while.

"Are you not going in?" He asked eventually when it became aware that Harry wasn't going to.

"The headmaster invited me down," Harry replied, a little embarrassed, "But I don't…" he finished. He didn't want to reveal to Snape just how nervous he was of simply walking into a room. He stood with his eyes riveted to the floor. Any second now would come the scathing retort.

"You don't know where to go."

It was the comment that Harry had waited for, but the deliverance wasn't the one he had expected. He chanced a glance up at the man before him. He wasn't looking at him in derision or distain. Harry shook his head.

Severus considered the man before him, they way he kept his eyes lowered. It twisted at him to see Harry acting like this, it reminded him of those days when he was hated. "Maybe you should just follow me." He said, keeping all inflection from his voice. In a way Harry was grateful, that he didn't have to go in alone and that at least Snape would tell him where he was supposed to sit.

The great hall hadn't changed a bit, and for a second Harry was in his seventh year looking down along the Gryffindor table to find Ron and Hermione so that he could sit with them. His attention was grounded by a small girl, probably a second year waving at him, and beaming a smile. He smiled and waved back unsure whether his smile was genuine as he followed Snape down between two tables. He noticed that no one turned to stare at the sight of both of them together.

They reached the head table and Harry faltered, unsure where to sit. But Snape merely motioned for him to the seat next to his own. He sat down and glanced around. Professor Flitwick sat beside him on his mound of pillows tucking into a large pile of syrup covered pancakes. He'd stopped as Harry had sat down and offered a smile. "I heard about what happened," he whispered as he leaned over, mindful of the students that were seated close by, "so sorry dear boy". Harry nodded and turned to his own plate. He could see the headmaster looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He leaned forward to catch what the man had to say.

"Poppy wishes to see you after breakfast if that's okay, she's already spoken to somebody at St Mungo's this morning and she says she needs to fill you in on some details."

Harry nodded in understanding and settled back into his chair as the headmaster continued to talk with Snape. Harry felt very lonely up here, he didn't know these people and his appetite had completely escaped him. He noticed that Flitwick was eying him covertly and sullenly pulled a slice of toast onto his plate. Suddenly Harry sat up straighter his eyes wide. Hagrid! He searched around, twisting wildly in his seat to find the half giant. He looked up and down both sides of the teachers table but could find no trace of him.

"Where's Hagrid?" Harry whispered to the dwarf beside him. Flitwick looked up at him as he swallowed thickly around a large mouthful of pancakes, his eyes conveyed his surprise and then fell back to understanding. He cleared his throat.

"He's on a sabbatical." Flitwick explained, "Has been this whole year, he's on a peace keeping mission on the continent. Not sure when he'll be back really." He looked contemplatively at his plate and tucked back in leaving Harry deflated. The only friend he actually had in the place had left. Sure there were people he knew, but to him they were still his teachers, people who had a moral obligation to him. He felt isolation setting in. he was surrounded by people but he was utterly alone.

"You really should eat something."

Harry turned to look at Snape, regarding him with a cool air.

"I'm not hungry." He replied, hating the way he sounded like a petulant child.

"It won't do you any good." He responded, sounding far too much like he knew things about Harry that Harry himself didn't know.

"Yeah, well I don't feel too well. I'm sure you could understand!" he snapped. Those sitting around him stopped eating and looked at him. Except Snape, who stared resolutely at his plate. Harry felt his cheeks redden, clearly he'd done something out of the ordinary, but how was he supposed to know any better. He sighed in irritation. "I think I'll head up to the infirmary." He said shortly and scraped back the chair so he could leave, students watching as he took the side door out.

"So he doesn't remember a thing?" Flitwick asked as the door closed behind him.

"Not a thing." Severus replied, "Not a bloody thing."

Flitwick sat back wide eyed, "It just doesn't seem possible does it. To just lose everything." He looked up at Severus, "What are they going to do about it."

"I don't know," Snape replied softly, pushing the rest of his breakfast around his plate. "He'll find out today."

"Well, at least he has some good friends around him." Flitwick said, motioning towards Severus with his fork.

Severus pushed his chair back, abandoning his meal. "He lost seven years Filius." He said quietly, leaving the same way as Harry. Flitwick pondered at what he'd said, thinking back seven years and realising that Severus and Harry were far from the best of friends.

IVIVIVIVIVI

Harry sat restlessly outside the offices of Dr. Mary Aldritch, an appointment card in his hand. He had spoken to her earlier that morning through the fire and she had asked him to bring some photos and mementos from around his rooms. So he'd gone around the living room and bedroom at home placing things in a small bag hoping that with each one he put in he may find a little enlightenment on.

The office door opened and a petite blonde stuck her head round the frame.

"Harry Potter?" she enquired, looking at him. It was odd for Harry to be asked, usually people recognized him instantly, whether he wanted to or not. Maybe a lot had changed over the years. He stood and lifted his small bag of possessions with him. Her office was a modest affair, done out in warm comforting tones. The corner in which the classic psychiatrists couch sat was walled entirely with glass so that as you lay you could look out on the surrounding gardens. An illusion Harry knew, because they were in the middle of London and there was no way that a garden that size could fit any where in the surrounding district.

"Mr Potter," Dr Aldritch held out her hand which Harry shook, "Do sit down wherever you find most comfortable." She said, motioning the room. Harry chose the two facing chairs on the other side of the room, feeling a little cliché at the thought of the couch. Dr Aldritch sat down opposite. "Now do you mind if I call you Harry in our meetings?" She asked politely, Harry shook his head, "Great, and you can call me Mary if you wish, whatever makes you comfortable." Harry was still in an irritable mood and her over cheeriness was getting to him. He nodded.

"Now, the purpose of these meetings is not to over stimulate you, I understand that you've gone through some pretty deep trauma and that you have no recollection of the past few years, am I right?"

"Seven." Harry supplied, getting her facts straight.

"Seven." She repeated, making a little note on a pad of paper. "Now, I asked you this morning to bring along some personal items. Did you do this for me?" Harry nodded, and brought them out onto the table when she motioned for him to do so. "Right." she muttered slowly as she looked through the items, picking some up and looking at them assesingly. Harry felt a little embarrassed at having his personal things look at in such a criticising manner, even if he didn't know what significance they each held.

"Okay then, let's start with some objects then," she reached over the table and picked something up, "What is this?"

Harry looked at it, "It's a snitch." He replied casually. She nodded.

"Uh huh, and where do you keep it?"

"On my bookshelf."

"So what do you think it might represent?"

There were a hundred and one answers to that question, Harry thought. "I don't know, I teach quidditch, I could be the snitch from the first game I ever refereed." Dr Aldritch nodded and made another note in her book.

"But it seems as though this game may hold a lot of feelings for you, for you to keep something like this on personal display."

"Well yes," Harry muttered, almost affronted, "Playing quidditch for the first time was when I first started to feel like a wizard, it was like freedom for me. I loved the game, I still do." But this bore no relevance to the missing years, thought Harry, this was just telling himself something he already knew.

Aldritch clearly sensed Harry's tension. She made a note, "What about this?" She asked, moving on and picking something else up. It was a test tube, plain with nothing inside and a cork stop.

Harry shrugged, "I don't know what that is. I found it next to the snitch, it looked as though it had been there some time, not left, but purposely kept there, because there was no dust on it."

She made a note.

"And what do you think this means."

Harry shrugged again, "I really have no ideas." He said snappishly, "I thought this was supposed to be jogging my memories, " He asked. Dr Aldritch just smiled at him, no doubt used to people being a little demanding and upset.

"Yes," she said smoothly, "But at the moment Harry, you may as well be looking through my things and trying to make sense of them. These things take time."

Harry conceded the point and hunkered down in his chair.

They went through each item in turn, Harry listing what each item was, where he found it and what possible significance it could have in his life, after all he had a reason for keeping each and every one of them, he just had to find out why.

Next they moved on to photos, she made Harry look at each one and detail everything he could see within the picture, who was there, where he thought they were. Some were more difficult than others, there were a couple of pictures of himself and somebody he couldn't recognize for the life of him. With these he had to reasonably suppose they must be a new acquaintance or a friend of a friend, or maybe wife or husband. He looked at the photo of himself posing in his uniform, mad grin still on face. He had supposed that this was taken shortly after receiving the job, maybe taken by Ron who would have no doubt found the whole scenario very entertaining. He was asked to imagine himself in the photo, to go back and imagine himself in that pose, to feel the sun and the breeze, to imagine Ron goading him into poses. Harry smiled, entertaining the notion that he could remember, could see themselves mucking about like they had always done, could almost hear the laughter.

With each photo he was asked to place himself in the scene, to mentally look around himself as though he would if he were in a pensieve, imagine what he would be feeling at the time, would say to the people around him if he could. But with each photo they passed, with each memory that he had forgotten he grew more desolate, aching for it all to just come back. It was enough to imagine himself in these places, at these times, but he wanted to remember. He wanted to remember what had caused the scandalised look on Hermione's face, an event that had occurred out of the frame but had caused every one else to laugh. He wanted to remember how it was that Neville came to be unconscious and covered in pen and shaving cream. And more than anything, he wanted to remember what he had said to Snape in the school photo that had caused the man to bite down a smile while his picture was taken. But all of this had eluded him, and even though he tried with all his might, eyes screwed up as though it would help, none of it seemed to have the slightest inclination to come back to him.


	3. Chapter 3

He was met by Hermione when he got back, she had been waiting with the headmaster on the castle steps for his return. It seemed as though Albus had filled her in on the finer details because when he was close enough she flung herself around his neck, hugging him hard and rushing out her sympathies against his neck so that all he could hear was a series of muffles.

Harry closed his eyes and welcomed her, wrapping his arms tight around her, relishing the familiarity. At last, he had something he knew. He felt the tears welling up in his eyes, felt sick with desperation and aching want. He started to shake, unable to control the release, and Hermione just held him tighter.

"I'm so glad you're hear." He whispered brokenly into her hair. "Everything's a mess and I don't know what to do." He sobbed like a child, breaking down completely as he at last accepted what had happened to him, the sheer enormity and impact on his life.

"It's okay Harry," Hermione soothed, stroking the hair from his face as they pulled apart, "It'll all work out somehow."

Harry was tempted to roll his eyes and ask 'how?' but Hermione just rested a hand on his face.

"You're a brave man Harry, and have faced much more than this. You can get through it." She smiled weakly at him, and harry felt a little warmth in his stomache, thawing out the freeze. He sniffed loudly.

"But all those things I've been able to have a hand in," he hiccoughed, "But this…, this is so much more, there's nothing I can do."

Hermione looked up at him, at the helplessness in his eyes. "There is," she said softly, "You can help yourself, I'm sure that there is something you can do. We'll just look at our options and find out where to go from there." She gave him a stronger smile this time.

Trust Hermione to this like that, but then, that was what Harry had most appreciated about Hermione, her cool sense of logic and stoicism. She would no doubt, at the first chance, be up in the library researching. He nodded and gazed at the floor a little, relishing the contact of Hermione's hand on his arm.

He looked up finally, a lot more collected, and took her in. she hadn't changed that much, he'd been able to tell from her photo's, but now her looked at her, she definitely looked older, her skin was smoother and her eyes set firmer. She'd somehow managed to tame the frizziness of her hair, but it was still slightly wild, just a bit shinier.

"Mione?"

They both looked up at the figure in the doorway, he looked at them with some anxiety. "Is everything okay?" he asked, stepping closer, he looked at Harry and nodded, "Alright Harry?"

Harry shifted in confusion, looking at Hermione for help. It seemed to all at once dawn on her and she jolted with shock. "Oh God, ummm…. Harry, this is Niall," She said, gesturing at the other man, "My husband." She finished softly.

Harry looked at him, tall, slim built and with mousy blonde hair, Niall was attractive, but not in an obvious way, he could see why Hermione had fallen for him.

"Wow," Niall seemed to step back a bit at Harry blank frown, "You mean you really can't remember?" he asked, incredulity thick in his voice, he stared at Harry.

"Uh, no." he answered, not entirely comfortable with talking to an apparent stranger. It was odd, he knew this man, had probably spent hundreds of hours in his company. He was the biggest thing in his best friends life, and yet he experienced not even the slightest flicker of rememberance or recognition.

"Harry's been to St. Mungo's already for tests," Hermione supplied her husband, probably more for Harry's sake as she had probably realised that he wasn't entirely keen on being stared at like a circus clown. Niall looked at his wife, and then back at Harry.

"Jeez Harry, I'm so sorry."

Harry nodded and muttered his thanks.

Hermione cleared her throat, "Why don't we go on up to yours Harry, then you can tell me everything." She smiled reassuringly and linked her arm with his own as she ushered them both towards the staircase, Niall following behind.

IVIVIVIVIVI

"So where's Ron?" Harry asked when they were all safely ensconced within his living room and he had made them all a cup of tea, remarkable feat really considering he couldn't remember where anything was.

"In Russia," Hermione replied grimly, "He's on a peacekeeping delegation with a rogue band of wizards who don't believe in hiding themselves from the other world. We sent an owl to him, but who knows if it arrived, ive sent them before and its taken weeks for him to reply, Fi was crazy with worry." She sipped her tea

"Fi?" Harry asked, "His wife?" he ventured a guess.

"That's right." Hermione said, beaming at him as though he'd remembered and not used basic guess work. "Fiona, they met at the ministry, she used to work on reception but now she's personal assistant to the head of muggle relations."

Hary nodded and placed his tea upon the table. "And you, how did you two meet?" he asked, looking between them.

A strange emotion flickered across her face as she explained that they had met at the university, he was head of research development and had asked her help on a project at the time. Harry realised that it must seem strange to her, recounting all these details of her life that were common knowledge among them.

"But enough about me." She finished, "I want to hear about all this, whats going on, how did it happen?" it seemed nothing would sate her curiosity, and so he explained. He told her about waking up and notincing that he looked different, he told her about the last things he remembered, about Albus' recollection of how he received his actuall injury, the tests, the specialist, consultants and therapist. He told her about his confusion and aching want to remember, about how all these people knew him better than he knew himself, about friends he never knew he had, conversations, feeling hopes and dreams that he would never remember.

Afterwards he felt worn out but lighter, having got it all off his chest. He felt better talking to Hermione about it than he did with his counsellor, maybe it's because she was familiar, or maybe it was because she actually wanted to help and listen rather than get paid for it.

"So what are the next steps, what's being done about it?" she asked, tucking her feet up under her and leaning a little against Niall who was happily listening to there conversation.

Harry sighed, "I'm seeing some counsellor, I'm not sure what to make of it, ive only been to one session but all she does is ask me about objects and photographs, as though I havn't spent every spare second staring at them and trying to figure out what's going on." he sighed again and rubbed his eyes, "And they're making me take some kind of potion that does something to the pathways in my brain," He waved his hand in a bored gesture, "I dunno, but it helps me sleep." He picked up his tea again.

"Talking of potions, how is Severus taking this?" She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world to ask. Harry was lucky he'd just swallowed his tea or he may have ended up wearing it.

"What?"

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "Well, surely you've talked to him?"

"No." Harry said, almost indignantly, "Why would I?"

Hermione looked at Niall, who was looking just as nonplussed as she was. "Because you two do everything together, share everything." She said it in a reassuring manner, like you would use when telling a child that going to the dentist was perfectly safe. If he'd had his senses about him, he'd have thought it patronising.

Harry blinked. He couldn't seem to get over the fact that he and Snape had been friends. Everyone had told him so, the evidence was piled against him, yet it still seemed the most laughable thing he could think of.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

Harry sat alone in his room, chewing at a fingernail as he watched the second hand of the clock tick softly on the mantlepeice, it was eight o'clock, and he should be taking his medication, only the headmaster hadn't been up. So Harry waited a little longer.

He strolled around his little apartment for what must have been the hundtredth time, picking up the same books and photos that he'd looked at before, some vain foolish hope in his mind. With each passing minute he felt the silence weighing more and more heavily, the lack of knocking on his door. At nine he sat down again and pulled on his sneakers, tying the laces and pulling his jeans down over them so that just a bit of red canvas could be seen past the white toe. He stood and glared at the clock as though he could blame it in some way.

He knew he'd have had to do it some time or later, all these people couldn't be wrong, couldn't be playing one huge pratical joke on him. So he set out, pulling the door shut behind him, and headed for the dungeons.

Even though he hadn't been down there for years, they hadn't changed, and to Harry it felt just like he was heading to class, or more likely, detention. He passed his old classroom, and the corridor that led to the dormitories, he could here a ringing laughter coming from it's depths. It wasn't an unpleasant sound, like the ridiculing and degrading laughs that Harry had heard during his time there, it just sounded like a group of friends having fun.

Finally he came upon Snape's study, the Professor's name engraved on the door much like his his. There was a faint glow of light coming from underneath the door so he knocked. He waited hesitantly on the other side, listening for any movement, he heard none and was about to knock again when the door opened.

There was a moment of shock on Snape's face as he took in Harry but it passed quickly, he regarded him carefully and motioned him inside.

Harry entered, rubbing one arm in a nervous comforting gesture as he took in his surroundings. Little had changed, there was still an air of organised clutter to the place, with books laying open on top of one another, various jars placed haphazardly next to stacks of essays and journals. The candles flickered wildly as the door shut, disturbing the air.

"Sit down." Snape said softly, invitingly, indicating the chair. Harry nodded meekly and took a seat as the other man left the room. It was odd, Harry decided, how even though he had no changed perspective regarding his former arch nemesis, that he was actually quite comfortable sitting in Snape's study, it seemed a lot cosier than the last times he remembered sitting in it. So maybe they were right, maybe they were all right and they had been good friends. Harry had doubted it, because many people could have said that he and Dean had been good friends in school, when in fact they hardly did a thing together, only really spoke when they were in the dormitory. So maybe he and Snape had been more than just an aquaintence and some dormant part of his brain was picking up on that, was filtering something back to him in order for him to feel adjusted. His heart started to thud, could things …?

"I was about to come up." The familiar voice jolted him from his musings. Harry looked round. "I thought that maybe Albus would be down again, but it looks as though he's left you to fend for yourself." He gave Harry a brief smile then concentrated on stoppering the vial in his hands.

Harry remained silent.

"I have to admit," Snape went on, "That I was surprised to find you outside my door." He glanced up at Harry, "I know that if roles had been reversed, I sure as hell wouldn't be here now." He finished with the vial and placed it in front of Harry on the desk as he moved round it to sit down. Harry couldn't help but notice the slightly hard edge to the man's voice. Silence resumed, with flickering shadows the only thing to reasonably occupy Harry's attention as he pondered just how long he should stay. But he was curious despite himself, he wanted to know, to learn, to catch up on all he'd lost, and apparently his best friend was sat across from him.

He looked at Snape, at Severus, who eyes were averted from him. He looked tired, he looked defeated, but most of all, he looked human, with his sleeves rolled up and one hand in his hair as he leaned against the desk, his other hand tapped out a repeated pattern against the littered unmarked assignments. He looked just as lost as Harry, and suddenlt he had a horrifying rush of empathy for the man. He'd lost his best friend. Harry had never really considered his life without Ron, but he could remember those times when they'd fallen out, had a tiff. He could remember the utter frustration of losing something so integral to your life, and for some reason or another Harry found himself apologising.

Snape looked up, "I'm sorry?"

"I said, I'm sorry." Harry repeated, he rubbed at his eyes so he could focus a little better, "They all told me we were friends, but I didn't believe them, I didn't want to believe them," He looked across at him, "I'm sure you can understand why," Snape smiled briefly, "But I just don't know what's going on anymore or who or what to believe, and it's just so fucking hard." Harry was mortified to hear his voice break.

He looked across the desk, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. "I just don't know what to do, I want it all to go away, but it's here and its real and I don't know what to do." He trailed of, unable to say anything more for fear of breaking down entirely, he sniffed loudly and watched his own hand as it played with the edge of the desk.

"Let me help you." Snape's reply was so soft Harry barely heard him. He nodded blindly. He didn't care anymore, didn't care that this was Snape, the same man who bullied and degraded him for seven years, the man who somehow became his friend, he didn't care because he wanted to help.

"Thank you." He whispered, swallowing thickly round his emotions. "But I wouldn't even know where to start, I mean, st. Mundo's cant really help me, and that bloody counsellor seems so pointless…" he felt himself getting heated.

"I think it's best," Snape interjected, "That we keep you close to home, you need familiarity in order to gain some semblance of normality."Harry nodded in agreement, "And as for where to start, we can start right here." He gestured the vial on the desk, "I'm just as good as research as I am at teaching." Harry was going to point out that he didn't think Snape was very good at teaching at all, but he decided that given the fragile nature of their relationship at the moment he doubted that a comment like that would go down so well. Instead he nodded and supplied a weak smile, after all he knew Snape's reputation outside the teaching field, why else would he have been recruited onto the dark side.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry woke with a shout, his sheets flying as he bolted upright. He had a moment to take in his surroundings, the darkened room and closed curtains , before he pitched forwards, his head in his hands.

He gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut. He was in agony, it was as though someone had put his head in a vice, an unbelievable pressure building up behind his eyes. He groaned as a wave of nausea washed over him.

He swung his legs over the bed and made an effort at standing, reaching out to the wall to steady himself. Slowly and painfully he made his way to the bathroom. He turned on the light and hissed as it burnt his eyes, he gripped the sink unsteadily and reached for the tap, turning it on full force and reaching his hand beneath the torrent. He brought it up and rubbed it over his face bringing him temporary relief.

He looked terrible, he was deathly pale and his eyes were blood red. He covered his eyes as another sickening wave passed over him, threatening his balance. Even amidst the pain and dizziness though, there was still one thought. He'd remembered.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

He sat perched on the side of one of the far too familiar beds that took up the hospital wing. It had been the potion, Harry knew, a different variation that he had been willing to try. Madam Pomfrey had tutted at him in a scornful manner and sent immediately for Snape.

Harry sat in silence trying to avoid the woman's stare for fear of catching her eye and sparking off a riot. He didn't feel; as sick but his head was pounding all the same, and he wasn't entirely looking forward to daylight either. He hung his head and watched his feet swing back and forth, contemplating what he'd seen.

There was movement at the far end and he looked up to find that Snape had arrived, looking a little less cool and collected as he'd probably hope, he saw Harry and made his way over.

"What Happened?" he asked quietly when he reached him.

Harry looked at him, he'd obviously just been woken because he still wore the t-shirt and trousers he slept in and he looked as though he hadn't entirely woken up yet.

Harry sighed, "I don't know, all I know that happened is that I woke up in a lot of pain. I think it must have been the potion, I can't think what else it could have been." He watched as Snape hung his head.

"I'm so sorry Harry," he muttered, "I must have made a mistake."

Harry snorted, "Don't be stupid." He replied. If there was one thing he knew about this man, it was that he never made mistakes. "I probably just had a reaction to it, that's all."

"Well, if that's the case I'll need to do some tests." Snape looked at Harry, awaiting his conformation. Harry nodded in a defeated manner, rolling and lying down as Snape walked away to find Pomfrey. He closed his eyes, bringing back that fraction of an instant. The vibrant flash of colour and burst of noise and laughter, he could feel it too, what he had felt then. He'd been so happy, but there was an odd, nervous quality too, as though he was waiting for something to happen. He pressed his eyes together tightly. He could see people, a room…

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes snapped open, "Do I have another home?" he asked suddenly.

Snape frowned at the unexpected question, "What?"

Harry sat up suddenly, "have I ever lived anywhere else?" he asked, vehemence in his voice.

"I think you should…" Snape tried to get him to lay back down, but Harry was adamant.

"Have I?" he demanded.

Snape stopped his efforts and looked at Harry, at the hope and desperation on his face. "Yes…in London."

That was it, Harry knew it, he'd seen it, he'd been there again. "Take me there." He asked, pleading.

Snape looked dumfounded. "Harry…I don't,"

"Severus, please!"

Both of them froze, Harry's eyes wide as he realised what he'd said. There was a lengthy silence as they eyed each other, not quite sure what to say. Harry didn't know what to think, it had just been instinctual, his name had been so familiar to say but had left him uncomfortable. He lowered his eyes, wishing that right now Snape would just leave. He felt something heavy in his chest, an uncomfortable weight knowing that he was looking at him.

"You remember?"

Harry shook his head, concentrating on his hands smoothing out the bed sheet. "I saw something. I want to know if it was real."

There was a pause, "What did you see?"

Harry thought for a moment, brow creased as he tried to hold on to the image, "A party. I think. There were people, and it was loud and bright, and I was laughing."

Severus thought, that could have been any number of gatherings at Harry's, for a while he seemed to have them every weekend. "Can you remember who was there?"

Harry closed his eyes, trying to recall, but it was difficult, like trying to remember a dream upon waking and finding that the harder you concentrate the further it slips away. He sighed in frustration. "No! Every time I think about it, it just keeps fading." He felt angry with himself, for giving himself such a vital piece of the puzzle only to lose it.

"Well, don't worry about it, if you remembered it once, I'm sure it will come back." Snape said matter of factly. "Now, hold still while I do this." He picked up a small needle and syringe. Harry pulled back.

"I still want to go." He said strongly, surely being there would help him.

"I know," Snape said gently, "But I'll have to do this first. Then we can go."

Harry conceded, albeit petulantly, he didn't like being prodded and poked especially after the tests he'd already undergone, but Snape was gentle and methodical, as though he'd done this a thousand times before. Harry watched him closely as he tended to him, how his hand cupped his arm as he pierced the skin, his thumb pressing against the crook of his elbow to stop the blood from spilling, the way he gently pulled the sleeve of Harry's shirt down when he'd finished. It all seemed too surreal, like some strange ethereal dream, to see this man, so stoic and uncomprimisable in Harry's memories, stripped to just a man, like any other, with the same emotions and feelings. He was so much more approachable, divested of his strict teaching robes and cold front Harry felt he could almost see why he could have made friends with him. Harry shook himself, uneasy with where his thoughts were going, still uncomfortable and rebellious against the whole idea.

"Can we go now?" he asked quietly.

Severus looked at him, at the way he held himself in reserve, like a child waiting to be scolded for putting a foot out of line. He'd seen his face, after he'd said his name. The uncertain confusion that had crossed his face left him looking bewildered as he fought to understand his own instincts. He wouldn't deny that it was hard, to choke down emotions and control how he was around him. The boy couldn't even comprehend the idea of their friendship, and with each little proof it seemed as though he tried to put up a wall of denial which was slowly crumbling under the weight of its own evidence. But still, he held within him a shard of hope. He'd called him by his name. He'd remembered. In whatever form, he'd remembered.

"We can go now."

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

London was cold that morning, but Harry could tell that despite this it would be a scorching day in the capitol, as soon as the sun rose and mixed with the pollution, bouncing from the buildings and pavements, it would be like walking through an oven. They'd apparated earlier, at least, he'd tried. But when they'd reached the apparition point Harry had realised that he'd forgotten how. They'd had to make do with side by side apparition which had left them both feeling a little worse for wear.

But at least he was here now, stood in front of a thin house with a blue door and a set of steps leading up to it. He held the key between finger and thumb as he looked up at it, rubbing the warm metal between them and focusing all his attention on trying to recall any glimpse of memory.

"When did I get this place?" he asked, his voice feeling unnaturally loud in the quiet morning air.

Beside him, Severus adjusted his jacket, "About four years ago. You said you wanted somewhere to go where nothing had mattered before."

Harry could imagine himself saying something like that, the desire to have somewhere that hadn't been tainted by his life before. He could never imagine going back to number four, Hogwarts was school, a home yes, but not his to keep, and number twelve held too much hurt and darkness. He looked at his house, and reasoned that he had made a good choice.

He took the first step, then the second until he was at the door, not even a pause before he put his key in the latch and twisted, the door opening with an uneasy sound that triggered a feeling of safety within Harry. He stopped in the hallway, hand still on the key, imagining all the times he'd come through this, his, front door.

The hallway was plain, with a small pile of post building up behind the door. But this wasn't what he was looking for; he headed straight for the doorway on the left.

It was exactly the same as in his dream, and Harry experienced the strongest sensation of deja vu

He'd ever experienced. He moved around the room, hands drifting out to run along the back of the couch or a shelf, the mantelpiece. It was very different to the living room he had at the school. It was much more modern; he even had a decent TV and sound system stacked neatly on a shelving unit in one corner. The couch was red leather and matched the one red wall perfectly, contrasting the black highlights here and there. Harry could tell that this was his place, his taste, his style, his everything. No one but him had a say here.

He sat down on the soft worn leather and looked, gazing non distinctly out of the window which looked out over the row of houses opposite. He felt very much at home.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling himself relax as his mind determined to remember something. It was as though there was something there at the back of his mind just aching to reach light. He sighed in frustration and looked over at Snape who was standing in the doorframe looking a little uncomfortable.

"It wasn't long ago." He said quietly. Snape looked up, a small frown creasing his forehead. "What I remember, at least…I don't think it was." He elaborated.

"What makes you say that?" Severus asked.

Harry shrugged, "I don't know." The way he said it made him sound uneasy, as though he'd lost his keys and couldn't figure out where to find them, which in Severus' mind was a decent analogy that seemed to fit the situation perfectly. "There's just something about it that seems recent. I can't explain." He frowned heavily.

"Can you still see the memory?" Snape asked

Harry closed his eyes. "Yes."

"Where are you?"

"Ummm," Harry's eyes closed a little tighter, "By the sofa."

"Put yourself there."

Harry raised an eyebrow at Snape but conceded the point and moved around the couch so that he was standing by the arm. He looked at Snape expectantly.

"Now, I want you to place yourself exactly how you were, eyes closed."

Harry was beginning to feel like an idiot as he crouched down and closed his eyes. "Now what?"

"Relive it." Snape leant against the frame as he watched. "See through your minds eye, try to influence your memory, reach out and touch, combine the senses." He spoke softly, and then he was quiet.

Harry took a deep breath and focused, being in the room made it much easier to focus, it was almost as though the image in his mind were super imposed onto real life, like stepping back in time.

He was there

At the party, next to Ron who was slouched in the soft sofa having clearly had too much to drink. He reached out, both physically and mentally and was shocked when his hand touched the couch. His eyes snapped open and the party vanished, he breathed heavily.

"What happened?" Snape asked from behind. Harry turned.

"It was just like being there, I could feel…" he looked back at his hand resting on the arm, "in my mind, I could still feel it, like I was really there." There was both wonder and confusion in his voice.

"Try again."

Harry didn't need to be told, he concentrated, harder this time. He could almost hear the music, the loud chatter of friends talking. His hand was still on the couch. Carefully he slid it down, savouring the feel of it on his finger tips, so real. He raised his head, slowly, as though frightened that any sudden movement would shatter the illusion. He looked around, all the faces of the people so crystal clear, could even tell what they were drinking. Slowly he stood, knees protesting.

His mind was whirring at a thousand thoughts a second. How was it he could be living through a dream, was able to influence and change a memory? He turned full circle, taking in every little detail, no one seemed to even notice this strange behaviour, and when he turned to look back at Ron he was surprised to find him still slurring at the spot where he had been crouched. It was literally as though he'd stepped back in and carried on where he'd left.

But why, why this memory, what made this occasion stick out in his mind, made it that important that it was the first thing to be remembered.

As clear as day, the doorbell rang.

Harry felt his stomach lurch, a feeling of pure adrenaline rushed through his body as though he'd just apparated and suddenly he was back in the room. The sudden change left him reeling.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up. Snape looked at him questioningly, "What happened?"

"Someone's at the door?" he said quietly, eyes focusing on the hallway.

"Who?"

"I don't know." He seemed confused. He'd just gone through the most surreal experience of his life and was still trying to figure out exactly what had happened, why had the sound of the doorbell produced such an effect as to leave his heart thundering and slightly breathless. It was definitely odd.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Harry nodded slowly, "I think so." He looked up at Snape and the concern on his face. "Would you mind if we left?"

Severus shook his head, non plussed, "Of course not, why?"

Harry thought carefully, at least it looked as though he did. "I think I need more time." He said quietly. He needed to get out, needed somewhere quiet to analyse this, to turn it over in his mind. There was something stopping him, almost a reluctance, to go on. Somehow, he'd known who was at the door and for some reason he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to find out.

Snape seemed to accept grudgingly, aware that Harry seemed uneasy to share what he'd seen just now, but he followed Harry out the door anyway, watched as he turned the key in the lock and bounded back down the stairs to the street where he stopped for just a second to give the house a questioning glance.

Something significant had happened, Harry thought, he knew it, and he was bloody well going to find out what it was.


	5. Chapter 5

"So he just upped and left?" Albus asked, balancing a vial on the end of his finger.

"Yes." Severus replied, snatching it away before the headmaster broke it. He sighed, looking puzzled. "I asked him about it, but he just said he needed some time to think."

"Hmmm," Albus ran a hand through his beard. "Maybe he saw something that unsettles him, something he didn't expect to see."

"I don't think it was that." Severus said, "He reacted to the sound of the doorbell, not something he'd seen. At least I don't think so." He started to roll the vial between his hand and the desk. "He looked quite shocked." He creased his brow.

"Did he say who was at the door?" albus was sitting on the edge of the desk now, swinging his legs back and forth in a very juvenile manner.

"No," Severus replied, still frowning, "He said he didn't know."

"Yet still he reacted."

"I know." Severus sounded puzzled, "Which makes me believe that somehow he did know, that the subconscious part of his brain where the memory is locked recalled the events further than Harry could reminisce, meaning that his base emotions would react without even knowing why. Almost like a gut instinct."

Albus pondered over Severus' words, legs still swinging. "You usually go to Harry's parties, couldn't you remember anything?"

Severus looked at the headmaster, and shook his head slightly. "He doesn't even know when it was. He said it was recent though." He looked as though he was thinking. "It couldn't have been the last one though, he said Ron was there, and he's been out of the country for at least a month and I don't know much about the one before that, it was two months ago and I arrived late, so I can hardly be of any help. Our only hope is that Harry remembers some smaller details, the date maybe, see how far back he's remembered."

The headmaster nodded. "So where is our Harry this evening." He asked, sliding of the desk and sorting out his robes.

"Up in his rooms," Severus replied, settling down to write something, "I think Hermione is round."

"Ill leave him be then, go refill my lemon drops or something."

Severus declined to make a remark to that comment and set about writing a list and process for the next trial of Harry's potion, his quill scratching across the paper in a comfortably familiar notion. If he started on the next stage soon he could maybe have the final product by tomorrow night, if he were lucky. He'd just pulled over the paper with Harry's blood results when he became aware that the headmaster was watching him. He looked up. "What?"

Albus looked a little affronted by Severus' demand. "I was just wondering how you were?"

"I'm fine, why?"

Albus looked away for a split second, "It's just that…" his voice softened, "I'd noticed that you and Harry were becoming quite close, that maybe you'd become quite attached to each other."

Severus looked down at the paper, trust the headmaster to ruin his working mood. "It doesn't matter." He replied in a defeated tone. There was no point in denying it, he was after all, the great Albus Dumbledore and could smell gossip a mile away, which, Severus thought, was the only reason Albus worked in a school.

He was still looking at him, with that infernal concerned and sympathetic glint in his eye. He made an irritated noise, "Seriously Albus, what!" he slammed his quill down in vexation, slouching back in his chair. "It doesn't matter any more okay? Anything that could or may have happened is out." He scowled at the desk, "He probably didn't see me that way anyway." He said sullenly.

"See, that's where I think you're wrong." The headmaster enthused, rounding the desk to crouch down by Severus. "He thinks the world of you." Severus rolled his eyes, "No really Severus, I don't think you see the way he looks at you."

"Of course I see the way he looks at me Albus." Severus muttered irritably.

"But you don't see how he looks at you when you don't see him." The headmaster looked at him squarely, "Severus, I honestly believe that there could be something there."

"Don't be so bloody stupid." Severeus retorted, he felt almost angry at the headmaster for messing about with his hopes, yet he still couldn't deny the way his heart thudded in his chest.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

"So you just upped and left?" Hermione asked, her face incredulous.

Harry looked at her, "Well yeah, it was a bit of a freaky experience to tell the truth." He said, affronted.

Hermione groaned, "You should have stayed, seen if you could find out anything else!" she folded her feet up beneath her where she sat on Harry's sofa.

"I was a bit wigged out thank you very much, I didn't exactly want to stay and mull it over. Not with him there." Harry glowered and slumped into the armchair, throwing his feet onto the coffee table.

Hermione tutted disapprovingly. "Oh really, what did that have to do with anything?"

"Well, it's hard to concentrate when you're being stared at!" Harry said in defence.

"He's trying to help Harry." It was amazing how Hermione could sound like she was both telling you off and trying to comfort you at the same time.

"I know!" Harry cried in exasperation, "There's just something….odd about him!" he caught her look, "I just can't get used to him being…oh I don't know, nice!" he didn't care that he sounded petulant, in his mind and after all he'd gone through he deserved a few selfish moments.

"Well if you just gave him a chance then maybe…"

"Agghhh!" Harry shouted, "Can we just change the subject please!" he slouched back into moody silence while Hermione stared at him.

"Okay." She said smoothly, "Then maybe you could tell me your feelings about what you saw."

Harry sighed and flopped his head back. He didn't really want to talk about that either, but he conceded that maybe it could help. "I'm still not sure what to make of it myself." He admitted, "I mean, why a doorbell, i've never reacted to the doorbell going." But then, he'd never really had a reason to while living at the dursleys, no-one ever came to visit him, and no parcels ever came. And then, even at Hogwarts, it wasn't as though there were a giant doorbell on the castle gates. It must be a recent development. "I must have just been excited because of the party." He reasoned.

"Yeah, but you had parties all the time, it wasn't exactly a new thing for you."

Harry pondered this, he'd thought it over a lot since leaving the house. It must be someone he knew, either that or he got really excited about pizza delivery.

But that feeling. It was incredible, he was sure what it was. Well, as sure as he could be, he'd had crushes before and could remember that feeling when they walked in the room. But this had felt like so much more. Harry really doubted that he'd been with someone before the accident, if he had then where were they? It must be somebody reasonable close to him, for him to be waiting their arrival.

"Hermione?" he ventured eventually, "Have I ever said anything about…having feelings for someone?" he felt himself blush a little.

Hermione looked a little surprised and non plussed, "Not that I know of, you've never mentioned anything to me." She offered, not really helping Harry in the slightest. "You think it's someone you like then?" she asked, a slight smile playing at the corner of her lips.

"Well, it must be." Harry said in exasperation, "Why else would it feel like my stomach were both trying to fall out my body and crawl up my throat!" he tipped his head back again and stared at the ceiling. It was a very uncomfortable experience, knowing you felt for someone but having no clue as to who it could be.

"Well, if it helps, you looked a little close with Syria not long back, but I think that's probably because she's Quidditch coach at the uni." Hermione offered.

Harry frowned, "I don't think it could be her anyway, I just get this odd sense of knowing … oh I don't know, I can't even begin to describe it."

"Well, i'm sure it will come to you in the end." She reassured, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. "Besides, maybe they feel the same way and will come by, you never know."

"Maybe." Harry agreed quietly. He sighed, thoroughly depressed with the whole situation.

It was quite for a while and Harry debated whether or not he should light a fire so that he could have something he could pretend he was concentrating on. Then he decided that it wouldn't fool Hermione.

"So, have you remembered anything else?" she asked hopefully.

Harry looked over at her, "Not a jot." He said, "Which is very disappointing, you'd think that if id remembered one thing I would remember others."

"Yeah, but you were asleep last time, maybe that's when your mind is more susceptible."

"You're probably right," he flashed a smile at her, "As always."

She smiled back, "Well I do like to keep up my high standards." She spurred into action, "And on that note, I should probably leave, let you get some rest and hopefully some memories back."

Harry stood and welcomed her hug, helping her with her coat. He offered to walk her down to the entrance but she declined, saying that she might pop in to see Minerva on the way out. He thanked her for her visit and stood at the door watching her walk down the corridor and around the corner.

He shut the door with a heavy heart, suspecting that sleep would be hard to come by this night, what with all the days events recycling in his mind. He took another lap of his living room, picking up the same photos and knick knacks in the vain sense of hope. But there was nothing.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

It turned out that there was only so much time one could spend staring at the wall and eventually boredom had prompted Harry into action. He swung his cloak around his shoulders and waved vaguely at the brick near the door to turn the light off.

The castle was quiet now, all the students having gone to bed or safe within their common rooms leaving Harry to walk peaceably around the corridors. He moved quitly past familiar tapestries and pictures, all of whose occupants were resting in their frames, (apart from a very rowdy picture of drunken monks). He reminisced about all the times he'd wondered the corridors when he was a student, invisibility cloak pulled up firmly around his head, listening with all his might for mrs Norris or Peeves. A ghost of a smile flickered across his face at the thought before his stomach wrenched, remembering that it was all over, no more midnight excursions and the rush of getting caught.

It was unfair, he thought bitterly, how his life had been snatched from him in so many ways. He'd never had a childhood, and his teenage years had been blighted by the ever mounting pressure to kill a madman, and now this, an entire chunk of his life… missing. And what seemed to be some his happiest years if anything the others had said had anything to go by.

He sighed dejectedly and mounted the stairs to the astronomy tower, doubting but still cautious as to whether he'd find an out of bed couple at the top of the stairs. He almost grinned at the thought. Even so he was a little surprised to hear voices as he opened the door, and nearly turned back to offer them some privacy (or at least some time to get themselves together), but realised soon enough that the voices didn't belong to students at all.

Leaning against the turret were Snape and Flitwick, the latter was halfway down the ladder he had been using in order to see over the wall. Both turned upon hearing the door open.

"Oho! Harry my boy!" Filius cried, finally reaching the floor, "I didn't expect to see you up here tonight, thought you'd be tucked up in bed by now, not like us insomniacs, eh Severus?" he shot a grin at the other man, who inclined his head slightly, an amused look on his face.

"I was just on a bit of a wonder." Harry explained, "It's alright, I'll be off." Motioning over his shoulder.

"Oh don't be silly, no need to leave on our account." The professor said cheerily, "Although I'm afraid to say I'll be heading back now, essays to mark and all that!" he beamed up at Harry and patted him on the arm as he walked past. "Ill come by your office tomorrow for that Severus." He called back, giving a little wave, Harry missed Snapes affirmation as he watched Flitwick amble out the door and shut it behind him.

Leaving him with Snape.

Harry turned slowly, conscious with every fibre of his body that the man was watching him. He stood to face him in the uncomfortable silence. Snape said nothing. Harry gave him a feeble half smile and shrugged a little, almost as if he were apologising for his lameness. He stood for a few more seconds before he gave in. "Ill be off then." He muttered, backing away to the door. He'd almost reached the handle when he spoke.

It seemed almost as though the world had stopped spinning.

"You don't have to hate me anymore Harry." It was spoken quietly and with a sadness that Harry had never imagined he would hear in that voice.

Again he turned. Snape was leaning, arms folded, against the stone turret, his head bowed as he spoke to the wall. Harry was struck dumb, almost tempted to say 'I don't hate you', in the instinct for denial but he knew that Snape would rebut him.

"We passed that, you and I," Snape continued, "Long ago."

Harry noted that he sounded tired, making him wonder what had drawn him out this night when it was clear he should be resting.

"Id heard that." Harry replied solemnly. "But surely you can see things from my point of view." He hated himself as soon as he'd said it, sounding far too much like an annoyed child.

"I do." He sighed heavily and readjusted his lean on the parapet.

There was a heavy tension in the air, disturbed only by the gentle breeze coming in off the lake.

"I'm not sure you understand Harry," Snape turned to look at him, "Everything I am today, the person I am, the friends I have, it's all because of you. You befriended me and helped me when no one else could care." His stare intensified. "You're the first friend I've ever had…and you don't even know me."

It wasn't an accusation, it wasn't said with harsh demeanor or snide countenance. It was a simple statement of loneliness. Harry hung his head, unable to look the man in the face any longer. He felt almost ashamed, guilty.

"I'm trying." Harry whispered, "I'm trying so hard to remember. Every waking moment I have to spare is hell bent on the thought of getting something back." He looked away.

"I know." Severus spoke quietly, "but maybe you don't have to try so hard, but so much pressure on yourself. You still have a life, you can fill in the gaps on your own."

Of course he was right, Harry thought, he was always right. He sighed and cautiously moved to lean against the wall himself, looking over the grounds. He could almost feel the relief coming off the other man in waves.

"So", Harry said slowly, looking snape up and down. "Apparently, You're my best friend." He smiled a little, at the absurdity of the sentence, one which he never thought he would ever say.

Severus smiled too, but looked away. "Some say that." He said softly.

"Have I?" Harry asked, curious.

Snape seemed to pause, as though thinking. "On a few occasions, yes. Although," he looked at Harry "You were fucking pissed at the time."

Harry laughed despite himself, both at the fact that Severus had just swore, and the thought of himself staggering down the road drunkenly hugging everyone he met and declaring his undying love for them. Slowly his smile faded with the thought. "But why though." He caught the way he looked at him, "I mean, we hated each other. What changed?"

Snape sighed, "I think it was because I was the only one who could understand you." He offered, reaching into his cloak. "I was the only other person who could possibly know what you had gone through, having been so deeply involved myself." He patted the other side, looking for a pocket. "I remember the first time you came to my office after you came back. You screamed at me for the longest time." He smiled a little at the memory.

"And you didn't chuck me out?" Harry asked sceptically.

"To be honest Harry, I couldn't be arsed. Id just been through hell as well and was still coming to terms with the concept that I was free too."

It seemed he'd found what he was looking for, he opened it and held it out to Harry. Who looked at it.

"I smoke now do I?" he asked with dark sarcasm.

Snape shrugged, "Sometimes, usually when you're stressed, so I figured you could use one." He shook the packet again.

Begrudgingly, Harry took one, hoping it would take away the annoying angsty feeling that was furled in the pit of his stomache, which now he thought about it, could have been withdrawal. So it was a good thing Severus had mentioned it because Harry could have been going out of his tree for something he didn't know. Good thing he wasn't a crack addict then really, he could have died.

He lit it and took a drag, sucking the hot, prickly air back into his lungs. It was much different to the ones he had smuggled out of Dudleys room when he was thirteen, the ones he'd smoked at the park when he'd been made to go to the shops. This was black, and tasted slightly of mint, and didn't make him cough so hard he thought he was going to lose a lung.

"I think you were surprised that I didn't throw you out," Snape carried on, "That I actually listened to your rants of betrayal and lost time. You screamed and you shouted and you cried until all you could do was just sit and stare at the fire." He looked at Harry who was staring resolutely at the wall. "I don't think anyone else had let you do that, just let you let go. Everyone had spent far too long trying to calm you down, I don't think they realised that in order to do that you needed to lash out first. And I let you. And you knew that. You must have come to my office nearly every night for the first two weeks just to shout at me. But then you changed, and you sat calmly across the desk, and you spoke to me and told me all your troubles, and in time you let me speak to you, let me help you."

His sentence died in the night air and left it's weight upon Harry. It almost seemed obvious.

He took another drag, and another, enjoying the smoke in his lungs, lost in thought. Another drag, until he'd smoked down to the filter and followed the example shown him and flicked the butt over the wall, watching the twinkling light as it disappeared into the night.

"Did I ever say thank you." Harry asked, after they had been silent for a while.

"What for." His voice as dark as the night.

"For letting me shout at you." He glanced over at Severus who was pondering over the tree line.

"I can't remember." He replied softly. "It was years ago." There was a depth to his words that Harry couldn't comprehend.

"Well." Harry said quietly, "Thank you anyway." Severus acknowledged him with a nod of his head but said nothing. "I should probably go." Harry muttered, "It's late."

He pushed back from the wall and headed to the door, pausing a moment to look back at the other man who still stared out at the darkened sky. Harry almost felt like he should say something, but felt that somehow, it would be inappropriate. Instead, he quietly opened the and slipped onto the stairs. Leaving without a word.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry woke late next morning, his head still full of broken dreams and quiet conversations. He rolled over in his bed, pulling up the duvet and settling down for a nice lie in.

Except all he could think about was him. And it was pissing him off. Snape was an enigma, an obsession almost. He always had been, Harry couldn't deny that he was drawn to him in school. His sheer hatred and sadism made for a worthy adversary.

And even now, without the bitterness and sarcasm he was still just as compelling, more interesting than others. To just look at the man, the way he held himself, his quiet regard, made you know that he was thinking, a thousand thoughts a second. No one else that Harry had encountered had intrigued him more.

Their conversation last night had at least served to break the ice properly, had answered questions that no one else could, and it was along this line of thought that Harry realised that the path to his old self lay within Snape. His trusted friend and colleague. Snape knew things about him that not even Hermione knew, not even Albus, with his staggering display of knowing absolutely bloody everything there is to know about anybody.

He hunkered down some more, eyes closed, wondering how long he could savour the sleepy feeling.

Eventually he had to get up to go to the bathroom.

He found some socks and pulled them on, having learnt that its not always fun to find the cold bits of stone floor that weren't covered by the carpet in the middle of the night. He moped into his sitting room, yawning and trying to get his hair to lie down.

On the mat by the door lay a note, placed there no doubt by a house elf. Why they couldn't leave them on the table he didn't know. Maybe they wanted it to seem more urgent, as though someone had been up themselves and placed it under the door. Whatever reason, it was all crap to Harry and he muttered so as his back protested as he bent over and picked it up.

It was a note, explaining that he needed to come down to the lab in order to do an allergy test before they could carry on with the next instalment. Around about fourish so that they wouldn't miss the banquet.

Harry frowned and rubbed his eyes, he dropped the letter on the table and looked over at the clock.

12:23

He headed for the shower.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

What with 'Fourish' having no precise time (Unlike Snape, Harry noted.) he decided to head down at about quarter to, so that by the time he got there it would be closer to four, the right side of four, if you're meeting someone. Better to be early than late, his inner voice chipped in.

On the way down he encountered no end of giggling girls and jockeying boys, all making the most of their last hours in the castle before they left tomorrow to find jobs and make something of themselves in the real world.

Harry felt a pang of longing. He would have done anything right then to just remember how his last night was, did they pull any pranks, did they have a party. How did they all say their goodbyes.

Even the air in the dungeons seemed a bit more cheerful as he headed down the narrow corridor, past the dormitory, towards Snape's office. Whose door was ajar.

Harry knocked and walked in, looking around his office. There was a shout from the other room telling him to come in. following it he went straight through the lab where he found Snape carefully measuring out something that Harry prayed wasn't going to be in his potion.

"Wonders shall never cease." He muttered dryly, tipping the contents into a jar that was held above a long flame, Harry realised with dismay that it was going to be in his potion. He looked up, wiping his hands on a towel. "You're actually here early."

Harry flashed him a sardonic smile and sat himself on the work top. "I thought I should make the effort." He replied.

"Yes, well." Snape said, not actually following it up with anything, making Harry feel slightly triumphant.

"So…what do we have today?" Harry asked, eyeing the simmering jar.

Severus followed his line of sight and kept his grin hidden, it did look bloody awful. "Something new, i've had to take out the reactant ingredients that caused your…um," He waved his hand vaguely, "But ive come up with a way of recreating the process using milder techniques which perhaps won't kill you."

"Always a plus!" Harry chimed in.

"Yes," Severus carried on, "But I'm not entirely sure of its potency. It is, after all, research. We'll only find out when you take it."

"And I get to take it now?" Harry asked.

"Not quite. I need a little something." And with that he turned on Harry with some scissors. "Hold still."

'Hold still', is perhaps not something to say to someone when you're coming at them with a pair of scissors. "Uh, why?" Harry demanded.

"Because I need your hair." Snape stated simply. "It allows a genetic marker for the potion to react with to make it compatible with your body."

"But you took my blood! Why can't you use that?" Harry wasn't entirely keen on having a patch of hair missing from his head.

"Because your blood has magic in it, honestly Harry, you can be an idiot sometimes." Harry knew, Snape had said this to him often. "Now please, sit still?"

Grudgingly Harry allowed him to carefully select a few hairs from the back of his head, 'where it wouldn't be noticeable', and sprinkle them into the still steaming jar. Severus muttered to himself as he stirred, occasionally making a note in the journal on the desk.

There were a few minutes of silence in which Harry played with a few of the tools on the bench and Severus didn't shout at him. Out in the corridor Harry could here laughter and a few bangs followed by a disturbing amount of thick green smoke pouring into the office from the hall, all of which Severus ignored.

"Finished." He said at last fixing a rubber bung into the top of the vial and handing it over to Harry.

"Thanks." He managed, feeling a little humbled that Snape had gone so far out of his way to fix up a new potion for him. "Take it before bed?" he asked.

"Yeah, about half will probably do, for now anyway. Don't want to fry your brain." He finished dryly.

Harry slid off the bench and stood for a minute sorting out his robes, "So," he said a little awkwardly, "What time are you headed up?" He asked, pointing at the ceiling.

Severus glanced up, a little bewildered. "Oh, the banquet. About half an hour, albus wants us all in there before the students. Apparently it gives them a good last memory of home." He said it like he didn't believe it.

Harry nodded, "Well, ill see you up there then." He said genially and turned for the door.

"Just a warning Harry." Snape called out behind him. Harry turned.

"Make sure you lock your door this evening."

Harry frowned, "Uh, why?"

"It's the last night." Severus said, as though it explained everything. "You'll be amazed at how many students, upon realising they may never see you again, feel it necessary to declare their undying love for you."

Harry almost laughed, an image of hundreds of year sevens trying to break down his door. "Sounds like you speak from experience." He quipped.

Severus rose an eyebrow, "You'd be surprised." He made a dismissive gesture. "Just heed my words, and I'll see you at dinner."

Harry smiled and headed out the door, seeing for the first time how he and Snape could have been friends.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

Dinner was indescribable. Harry remembered all the leaving feasts he had been to but this outdid them all, the hall was decorated to within an inch of its life and the food would probably have fed at least five thousand, each bite left you craving for more and Harry found himself having to pace his meal so that he didn't die.

The headmaster had made a speech that would no doubt linger in the minds of those leaving for quite a few years, a lot of girls cried and Harry could see that quite a few boys had distinctly shimmering eyes. The whole experience left a knot in Harry's stomach, thinking whether his leaving feast would have been like this. He clapped and cheered and smiled when the indoor fireworks went off and when Dumbledore asked the seventh years to stand. He was reminded of Snape's words when he was approached by a knot of girls who all asked him to sign their yearbooks, which was awkward seeing as how he didn't remember any of their names, although they promised to come back and see him.

"Harry, my boy!" Harry turned and found Filius ambling along in his direction looking very merry, he motioned Harry down with his hand. Harry stooped so that the other man could whisper to him. "A few of us are going to mine so we can have a bit of a nightcap, if you want to join?"

Harry nodded, "Sure, ill come by later, ill change first though," he said, pulling at the neck of his shirt.

"Good, Good." Filius said, "Oh, and could you tell Severus and Albus." He pointed to where the two of them were talking to the current head boy. Harry nodded.

He waited until the boy left their company before he went over.

"Um…" he caught their attention, "Filius said that he's having a get together in his rooms, wondered if you wanted to go down?"

"Oh now, isn't that lovely!" the headmaster exclaimed waving his hands in the air in a vaguely frightening motion. "I do love our little party's." he whispered and winked at them, giggling a little. When did he say to go down Harry?"

"Um, he didn't. I was just going to shower and change and then head down." Harry shrugged.

"Well, heads of houses usually spend a little time with their students after dinner, so hows about we head down at nine?" the headmaster said, checking his pocket watch. "Speaking of which." He glanced over the top of his glasses to look at Severus.

"Fine!" He said, "I'll be going then." He gave the headmaster a wry smile, then placed a hand on Harry's arm. "Ill see you later."

Harry stared at him, eyes following him out the room as he felt the lingering shock resound through his body, a little itch on his arm.

"Well, I'll walk up with you." Albus carried on, leading them out of the hall and towards the stairs. "Everything holding up for you then Harry?" he asked halfway up.

"Seems to be," Harry said truthfully, "a bit of me is beginning to be logical and accepting. It's still really frustrating, but I've had some really good talks with Hermione and she's helping me see things a little straighter."

"Well, it's good to see you smiling." Albus grinned. "And with summer here now, things can only get brighter!"

"So what does happen over summer," Harry asked, "I mean, do I get to stay here or should I go back to London?"

"Oh, do what you please," the headmaster said airily, "everybody comes and goes as they please, you'll often find that we have quite a few extra's roaming around, they like to use the library to do research. Just do what you want; we could always do with you here!"

Harry nodded, "I might stay for a while then, if that's okay, do a little research myself." He looked up at the headmaster, who gave him a toothy smile.

"Good to hear it lad, now if you don't mind, I shall part ways here, got a little note to send to the parents of a certain third year," he said, patting his pocket, Harry knew he was talking about an incident involving a broom cupboard, a smoke bomb and a large hula hoop. "I'll see you later!"

Harry waved him goodbye, keeping his smile in check as he heard the headmaster bid good day to a set of armour.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

Harry had made it down at about 9.15 after having a mild argument with the house elves who refused to put his mail anywhere other than the doormat. It turned out all it was, was a late delivery of the new quality quidditch supplies catalogue, which he'd thumbed through quickly and then cast onto the table.

He was neither the first nor last to arrive, which suited him fine and he quickly found himself emerged in conversation with Professor Hooch, glass in hand and beginning to feel a lot better about his entire situation. He was lucky, he knew it, to have this brilliant circle of people around him who were willing to help and be there, how many other people could say that.

It was a good evening in all, and he'd found himself beginning to relax a lot more around the people he'd previously known as his friends. Near the end of the evening he was approached by Severus reminding him to take the potion, which was good because Harry had actually forgotten. He stayed and talked for a while, but all the time Harry was aware that something was off about him, that there as some kind of awkwardness around him, and each time their eyes caught Harry felt that little part of his arm heat up as though his stare was some sort of catalyst.

He seemed lost, Harry surmised, his Snape watching skills at their best. He saw it because he recognized it in himself, could remember all the times that he just let conversation slide over him while his mind was busy elsewhere, set upon paths that would never be walked and dreams that would never come true.

Harry was close enough to him to hear him mutter an excuse, saying that he was leaving. He was just about to ask if he were alright when a sudden barrel of pain rushed between his ears. Harry couldn't be sure if he'd made a noise, but his throat felt strangled as his mind burst with sound and vision, a blistering cacophony of action, cause and consequence flashed before his eyes and then vanished, leaving him stricken under the eyes of the Hogwarts faculty.

"Harry!" The headmaster was next to him, hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling from his precarious perch on the arm of a chair. "Harry?"

Harry shook his head, wide eyed, as though by keeping them open he could avoid the sudden barrage again. "I think I remembered!" he gasped, swallowing thickly around his heavy breathing.

"What. What did you see!" Harry looked up at the crowd pressing round him.

"I don't know." He rushed, "Let me …think."

He stared at the floor, blinking rapidly as he replayed the visuals in his head, each a partial image or blur of a memory, like picking through hours of CCTV footage until you find your murderer. Then suddenly…

"I remember you." He said loudly, looking up, eyes focusing straight ahead on Flitwick, who recoiled slightly at having so much sudden attention. "I remember you, being here," he paused as he dragged the image back from the recesses of his mind, "You were showing us how to make a drink, and you forgot to put the lid on the mixer."

"Well…that was two weeks ago!" Filius cried, looking round for people to confirm.

"And you remembered that, just now Harry?" The headmaster asked.

"Yeah, and other things, but I can't make them out. It's like…shadows on the edge of your dreams, I can see them, but when I try to look at them directly, they disappear." He felt himself slump. He knew he shouldn't be disappointed, that he'd just remembered something new, but he could help but feel frustrated at the lack of anything solid.

"That's twice now." A voice cut through his thoughts. He looked up at Severus, "Twice you've remembered something while you've been in the same surroundings."

Thoughts and questions slid into Harry's head, maybe Snape was on to something, maybe association would help, it had worked in the flat, actually putting himself there and trying to relieve it. Maybe he could do with any situation. A flicker of hope came to light in his chest, making his heart beat fast at the very notion.

He stood up, he needed photos, he needed to start looking, start researching.

"Harry?" Albus looked at him with question in his eyes.

"Um," Harry rubbed his face, "I need to go, I have to sort some stuff out." He put his drink down, unaware of the muttering around him. "I have to go and try something." He bid them goodnight and thanked Filius for the good time before he hastened down the corridor.

He was halfway along the short cut between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tower when the door behind him swung open, the wind slamming it against the ancient brickwork. Harry turned swiftly and found that Severus had followed him.

"Harry, wait!"

Harry stopped unwillingly. Irritated at the delay. "What?"

"I just thought I should warn you against doing anything tonight." Severus said when he finally reached Harry. Harry stared at him as though he'd sprouted wings. "It's just, your mind's just been through a traumatic event, I don't think it's wise."

"I'm just going to look at some photos." Harry said defensively.

"You're going to try and force yourself to remember." Snape came back, pulling his wind whipped hair from his face.

Harry shivered in the night, "Is that so bad!" he shouted, feeling anger creep up within him, "What's wrong with wanting my life back, and when I'm given a glimpse you want to take it away!"

"No I don't." Severus replied, "But I'm worried that you'll do yourself more harm than good. This is a very tricky field Harry, mess about too much with your mind and you could end up losing things forever!"

"Like I haven't already!"

"Please Harry,… just don't!"

Harry stood still, there was something in the way Snape had spoken that had made him stop.

"At least wait until a time when you can be watched over, just to make things safe."

Harry found himself speaking, "Fine." An empty word that seemed to appease the man in front of him. "I'll wait."

"Thank you, that's all I ask." Severus seemed relieved and now that tempers were abated, concentrated on settling his robes.

"Well, if that's all." Harry carried on, "I'll bid you goodnight." He inclined his head, and Snape did the same.

He turned to leave.

"Harry?"

He turned back

"Promise me."

"What?"

"Promise me you won't go back to your rooms and ignore my warnings."

Harry stared long and hard at him. At this new man, that knew so much more than him.

"I promise."

He walked away feeling entirely unsettled.

And he walked back to his rooms, waved at the wall until the light turned on. He walked straight over to the shelf where he'd placed the vial Snape had given him earlier and tore the stopper out, he placed it to his lips and tipped his head back, downing the vial in one. He breathed in deep as he felt it fry along his nerves, and unpleasant tingling sensation pooling in the nape of his neck.

He flung the empty vial back on the shelf and looked around, eyes fixing on the silver frame and its occupants. He grabbed it and headed over to the sofa where he threw himself down, holding the item so close that it took up all his vision. And he concentrated, looked past the people and around the picture, feeling himself there, ignoring the fire behind his eyes. He willed himself deeper, could almost feel himself looking through the lens of the camera, and the edges of his vision greyed, his mind numbed at the effect of the potion running it's course. Harry growled in frustration and shook his head.

"Not now!" he whispered harshly, pushing back into his own self, unlocking doors and trying to kick them open. But the darkness grew, and no matter how hard he shook his head, Harry couldn't shake the shadows away. The sliver frame dropped to the floor with a thud.

IVIVVIIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIV

Harry screamed as he woke up. Hands covering his ears as the sounds coming from the walls seemed to magnify as they passed into his head.

And slowly he realised that he wasn't hearing things, that there really was an ear-splitting ringing coming out of the walls.

He staggered to his feet and groped at the back of the sofa, horror churning in his stomach as he finally made it to the window. He leaned out, looking over the balcony with his blurred eyes.

Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes as he was transfixed by the most terrifying sight he'd ever known.

The castle was on fire.


	7. Chapter 7

He stared, unable to tear his gaze away. Smoke billowed out of the windows like fat pillows emptying their feathers, it dirty clouds melting away into the dark. And past that, through the dense wall of dark fog were the fire lit windows glittering like candles in the night.

The wind picked up, pulling on the smoke like strands of wool on the spinner, and it brought, carried on the air, a desperate scream of sickening anguish. He bolted.

Harry lurched into the corridor, swaying drunkenly as he tried to regain his focus. He was hit by the acrid smell of smoke ebbing out into the corridors. The noise out here was less harsh, but still the high pitched wailing carried on. All about the castle shouts were bouncing off stone and echoing down corridors, only lending to the confusion.

He had to help. Running in the direction of the fire he passed a group of sixth years going the opposite way, "What happened!" he shouted out above the din.

The group stopped, relieved and thankful to see a familiar, authoritative face.

"We were having a party," one of them explained, his face dirty with soot and sweat, a girl hanging on to his arm as though the contact would keep her safe. "It was for the seventh years, I don't know what happened, but it was everywhere." He coughed harshly, tears in his eyes.

"It's okay," Harry said, putting his hands on his shoulders to steady the poor boy. "Get down to the main entrance, wait outside. And don't come back in!"

The students nodded, grateful to be given an order, and watched as Harry ran off towards where they had come from.

His breaths came in sharp pants, the thin smoke in the air irritating his lungs as he pounded along the flagstones. Further down the corridor the smoke grew thicker until he rounded a corner and was met with a wall of darkness. Quickly he pressed his sleeve to his face, breathing through the cotton in hot, moist breaths. Frantically he searched the smoke for some leeway, but found none.

Through the gloom he heard a cry. He stood stock still, wondering if he had in fact heard it. He slowed his breathing, eyes wider than ever until he heard it again. Without thought he fell to the floor where the smoke was thinner, though not by much. He rushed forward, groping blindly in the dark and straining to hear the voice again.

"Hello!" he shouted, coughing violently at the short amount of time his lungs had been exposed to the fatal air.

"Help!" a young voice cried back, Harry moved towards it, sweeping his hands along the ground as he moved. He rounded the corner of the corridor and felt his way along the wall until he came across a cove where his hand landed on something soft. He gripped it manically in his hand and tugged, pulling a body along with it. He felt around until he was sure he had a firmer grip, pulling them into his arms.

Half crouching, half walking he navigated through the smoke, praying he was going the right way, until the air grew a little lighter. Without care he hefted the student into his arms proper and staggered towards the light, coughing and trying to breathe as little of the air as possible.

Finally he broke free and stumbled a little further on. He fell to his knees and turned all his attention to the body in his arms. It was a young girl, a first year, who was doing her best to cough all the smoke from her chest, eyes stinging and streaming, leaving little clean trails through the dirt on her face.

"You're alright." Harry said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice, sitting the girl up and patting her back, "It's alright, just breathe." He carried on, rubbing her now. He wiped at his own eyes and peered back over his shoulder at the thickening black cloud. Suddenly she burst into tears, wild hysterical tears, and she turned and flailed in Harry's arms.

"My brother!" she screamed, her cries turning Harry's stomach and chilling him to the core. He held her back as she tried to crawl out of his lap and toward the fire.

There were footsteps at the other end of the corridor. "Sophie!" Harry turned and saw a bedraggled group of students, all ages and all clinging to each other with a desperate look of horror in their eyes.

The girl in Harry's lap turned. "Ferris!" a boy broke away from the group and ran to where Harry sat; he slid to his knees just as the girl launched herself into his open arms. "Oh god, I thought we lost you." He muttered brokenly into her hair. He looked up at Harry. "There are still more people up there sir." He gasped, holding on tightly to his sister, "I've found all the people I can, but we were close to the door, there were more people in the common room."

Harry nodded, feeling nauseas from the potion and exertion, and utterly afraid for people still behind the smoke. "Okay." He staggered to his feet, head reeling and chest aching. "Get out." He said breathlessly, "Wait outside the entrance, get as many people as you can out." He pushed the girl firmly into the boys grip and steeled himself as he watched them regroup and head for safety.

With a grimace he turned back to the acrid smoke. With sleeve pressed to face and a hand on the wall he plunged back in to that world of darkness, only slight nuances in the way light managed to filter through the dense smoke gave clue as to where he might be going. He passed the cove where he found the girl, his feet catching a little on the slabs and he slid them along the floor to make sure he didn't trip.

There was a sudden rush of wind and a howl unlike anything Harry had heard, he lost his balance and hit the wall hard, sliding along it and grazing his arm as he went. He cast his eyes back in time to see the last whispery traces of one of Hogwarts ghosts round the corner as it too fled the fire.

At least he was going the right way. Up ahead he could hear the distinct dull roar of a fire consuming all it could find, but it wasn't until he neared the end of the corridor, the entrance to Ravenclaw tower common room, that he could hear the individual flickers and cracks as the flames licked the frames and beams on the wall. Harry stood and made his way over to the door. The air here was a little clearer, the heat from the fire pushing the smoke away just as fast as it could create it. He could at least see the door handle as he pushed it open.

The tapestries lining the entrance burned, leading the flames up the wall to stream along the stone ceiling, creating a carpet of fire above Harry's head.

"Sir?"

Harry looked down, through the heat haze and saw a number of students crouched near the entrance, trapped by the fire edging near them in the common room and the flames that stopped them from leaving.

"Just run!" Harry shouted to them, it was stupid he knew, but at least this way they could duck under the flames rather than wait for them to come. The students looked at him as though he was insane. "Run!" Harry shouted again, motioning with his hands to come to him. The girl in front looked behind her at the others who were huddling close to her, backing away from the flames and shielding their faces from the heat. She looked back at Harry and then up at the roaring fire. Again she looked back, taking the hand of the smaller girl hanging on to her skirt. She shouted something that Harry didn't hear and then in a flurry of chaos and movement they were coming, single file, and crouched as low as they could, they hurried through the avenue of fire.

"Keep going!" Harry pointed towards where the air got thick. The girl gave him a desperate look, not wanting to have to go any further on their own. "Go!" he pushed them forward even as they continued to file out, coughing and crying. Obediently they went, disappearing as though through a wall, hand in hand leading each other. Harry hoped they would have the sense to keep their breaths short, knowing that there was no where they could go but out, but still, the darkness was disorientating and they could be trapped in their for quiet a while.

Harry waited until the last of them had struggled through and off into the smoke. He stared back into the common room, ducking as bits of debris fluttered down from the roof; the heat was almost unbearable making his eyes itch and his skin burn. Should he go in, he thought, he didn't want to leave if there were any one else stuck in there. He couldn't stay long, that was for sure. He gasped a breath into his sore and aching lungs, wondering if he stayed here any longer would he make it back out.

Just as he was about to turn and leave he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Another student had made it down from the tower, face red and black, eyes wide despite the heat. Will it ever end, Harry thought miserably. "Come on!" he called to her, begging her in his mind to hurry. His energy was being sapped and the thought of the journey back through the smoke was tormenting him. The girl shook her head, clearly terrified; she stared up at the flames and the little flurries of fire that swirled down through the entrance. Harry heard a loud crack, just above his head and moved out of the way just in time to avoid the swinging pole that held one of the tapestries up. It clattered to the floor, propping itself up against the wall so that it blocked some of the way, flames licking up its entire length to join the ones still running up the wall.

"Now!" Harry shouted, desperate. There was another crack and a thud as one of the paintings in the corridor fell from the wall, its occupant long gone. Harry looked around him, the place was coming down, if they didn't get out of there now, there would be no getting out at all. "Dammit." He swore under his breath, still holding his sleeve to his face, more for protection from the heat now than from the smoke. Biting his lip, Harry lunged forward.

There was a sudden cry from behind him and a tug, pulling him back. Harry turned and found Severus kneeling behind him, soaking wet and with a desperate look on his face.

"What are you doing?" Harry shouted at him, getting back on his feet ready to spring back toward the girl.

"I'll go." He looked past Harry at the tunnel of fire that led through to the common room. He could only just see the girl, crouching in terror by the only corner of the room that wasn't consumed by fire. He idly wondered at the back of his mind how she was still alive.

Harry was too late in his protest and reached out as Severus ran past, ducking the flames and leaping the tapestry bar, he was gone, lost amongst the heat and flames, his name dying on Harry's lips. If Harry hadn't known it was possible for his heart to beat any faster he knew now. Frantically he searched the eddying mass for any sign of trademark black. A strange wind picked up, and Harry figured that the windows must have given in to the heat, allowing the fire to suck in all the air it needed to fuel its destruction. It came whistling down through the stairwells, through the common room and out through the entrance where Harry crouched, waiting for any sign. The wind stirred the flames, lifting them in columns of orange, white and yellow, obscuring everything from view.

And he waited; agonizing seconds as the flames grew higher, heart beating far too fast, making him sick. His eyes watered from the heat and he wiped the tears away with a hot sleeve.

"Come on Severus." He muttered, lips dry and beginning to peel. The thought of going after them entered his head but was shook away as he caught sight of what he was looking for, the two of them were just the other side of the small corridor that served as the entrance, a mere ten feet from Harry, but blocked by the most difficult path. He watched them both, Severus's head down as he spoke to the girl as she screamed and cried and clung to him as though he were the only life line in the world. Finally he must have said something to her to make her see sense because she turned and looked at Harry, an odd, almost calm look on her face. She nodded and climbed down from Severus' lap, on hands and knees like a runner about to start a race. Harry watched as Severus pushed, propelling her into the flames, she came running and screaming, leaping the bar like she's been doing it all her life and stumbling, falling into Harry's outstretched arms. The force of her landing knocked him onto his back, but he didn't care, a sudden relief ran through him, giving him enough energy to stagger to his feet in time to meet Severus as he came dashing out of the fire, his wet clothes steaming and drying even now.

"I'll take her." He gasped, dragging the girl from Harry's arms into his, where she curled, face tucked into his shoulder as he held her tightly. Harry nodded, thankful as he doubted he'd be able to carry her for long, all his life seemed to be draining away, each breath hurt more then the last and his eyes could barely see anymore.

"Let's go."

Severus grabbed his wrist and pulled him along after himself, back towards the hellish nightmare of confusion and disorientation, more dangerous now because of how weak they were. Together they walked in an unsteady line, edging further away from the immediate danger, walking knowingly into another. And darkness surrounded them, so sudden and so thick it was just as though they had been blindfolded. The grip on Harry's wrist tightened and pulled with more insistence, dragging him along an uncertain path. Harry's head was reeling, thudding and swaying, threatening to make him fall. He was glad for the anchor, sure that without it he would have been lost the moment he'd stepped into the roiling mass. He coughed hard, smoke finding its way into his lungs when his arm became too tired to hold itself up to his face. He stumbled a little, catching his stride again and surging forward, head lolling as though he were drunk. He shut his watering eyes against the smoke, he had no need for them anyway, but this only made them sting more, washing the acrid air further into them, making them tear again so that heavy trails marked his cheeks.

They had to be close, they just had to be. Each step was getting harder and harder, his legs and arms heavy weights attached to his body. He stumbled again, falling to his knees. That blessed second of rest seemed to Harry to be the sweetest moment of his life until that hand pulled him back up, persuaded him to move. A quiet sob escaped from Harry's mouth as he trudged onwards, the sound of the fire still behind him. "I can't." he whispered. But no one heard him.

It had been hours, he was sure of it, since he'd entered the fire, his body weary, aching, bloody and bruised. Each tiny mark upon him screamed at his senses, burned all the more in the absence of heat. He was so tired, head aching as it tried to sleep. All he could taste, all he could smell was this accursed smoke, it was in his pores, choking him in every way. He felt as though he was going to burst, his lungs crying out for air, convulsing in a last effort to force some oxygen into his veins. His feet caught the edge of one of the flagstones and he stumbled again, grazing his already wounded knees, but this time, there was no getting back up. His body fell sideways, the grip on his wrist slipping to his hand, his life line literally falling through his fingers.

And finally he was resting, his broken body on the cool stone floor, encased in darkness. It was utter perfection, a just reward for what he'd done. He heard someone shout his name, but it was through a different kind of fog, one that sat and clouded his mind. He felt the vibrations of footsteps and then there was silence. He could sleep now, he knew it. If he'd had more strength, he was sure there would have been a hint of a smile upon his face as he let himself fall into the peaceful world of night. His breaths shallow, with little air.

He was dying.

"No!" what little reserves he had left made him roll over, had punched through the thick wall around his senses. He was not going to die, not here and not now, not after saving those people. He wanted to know things, he wanted to live his life again, he hadn't tried this hard just to give up now. But his body wouldn't obey; his arms just shuddered as he tried to lift himself, all strength gone. He tried to shout, but all that escaped was a throaty whisper, he tried again, but to no avail. He began to roll but was stopped, a heavy hand on his shoulder, gripping his shirt and pulling, finding his arm in an iron grip. There was movement, a sudden sickening roll and then he was being lifted, his body draped around broad shoulders, cheek pressing against a warm arm as he was carried away.

He was lost in relief, felt the air change around them as the smoke thinned, heard more human noises, footsteps, shouts and cries and then finally, cold, sweet, fresh air. He tried to breath in a lungful, but his body was still too weak, instead, he savoured the sweet smell of it, revelling in the delight of something so pure and taken for granted.

He was being jostled about; several pairs of hands were upon him as he was lifted down from the shoulders onto the shockingly cold grass. He made a grateful noise, the cold dew soaking through his thin t shirt to his burned skin.

"Harry." There was his name again, closer this time, and a hand on his face. Could he bear to open his eyes? They fluttered open anyway, soft focusing on the towering objects around him. He squinted his eyes, trying to see the people crowding him. He coughed, his lungs burning at the vicious movement. He tried to sit but they held him back down.

"Everyone out?" he finally managed to ask, his voice sounded like gravel on sandpaper and it tore at his throat to speak. Minerva sighed in relief at his side and patted his head, looking as though she'd be overcome with emotion at any moment.

"Yes, m'boy, they're all out, and the services are on their way."

Harry turned his head and gazed over at the castle as it consumed itself. Hundreds of students littered the lawn, shivering in their dressing gowns and pyjamas as they cried and hugged each other. He coughed again and rolled onto his side so that he could breathe easier, every muscle in his body protested.

"Now now Mr Potter, just you stay still while I take a look at you." He groaned as Pomrefy pulled him back over. She prodded him and said a spell that made him cough so much he thought he'd never breath again. She turned away and muttered to Minerva who looked at him with a worried maternal face.

"Okay Harry" she was very nearly shouting at him, using her special 'you've injured yourself so you must be stupid' voice, "We need to move you now, we're going to take you to St Mungo's."

Harry's head reeled, he wasn't that bad was he, okay he'd inhaled some smoke but give him five minutes and he'd be okay. Pomfrey seemed to think otherwise and waved over to someone, it turning out to be the wizarding worlds equivalent of paramedics, who had been tending to the children since they'd apparated in minutes ago. They hurried over, followed buy a bunch of men wearing what could only be described as space suits who carried on running up to the castle.

The men were quick and efficient, leaving an already confused Harry reeling and angry, which only made him cough harder, making him feel as though he would lose a chunk of lung very soon.

"Wait," he rasped out, "Severus."

But no one was listening, anxiously he craned his neck, looking for the man who'd saved his life. No matter what had transpired between them he needed to thank him, needed to say sorry that he didn't listen to his advice. He wanted to shout, wanted to stay but they were tucking a blanket around his body, making him claustrophobic and hot, making his skin burn even more. "No," he gasped, "Sev…"

They were carrying him away from the castle, to a safer apparition point. "No," he tried to protest again. Minerva was at his side telling him not to worry, that they were going to heal him. But he didn't care.

"Severus." He whispered again, looking at her for an answer.

She stopped briefly, looking a little shocked. "Wait!"

The men carrying the gurney stopped, jolting Harry. He noticed with horror that she was looking from Harry to the castle. "He went in to get you." She said, her voice strangely empty. Harry nodded his head.

"Lost …in..smoke." he choked out, "Carried me."

She looked back at the castle, her eyes conveying the thoughts behind her eyes, Harry wanted to ask her, was near frantic inside. What! She looked back at him and shook her head, eyes wide.

"No." she looked as though she would faint, "Alex carried you out." She took a step back, hand to her mouth, and a split second later she'd turned and was running, screaming at the top her lungs, towards the castle, guards stopping her. The gurney stumbled into life again and began to move away.

"No!" Harry tied to shout, he was still in there, he twisted and turned, writhing around, trying hard to get to his feet. He had to go back. Severus had gone into the fire to get him, and now he was lost, in that same plague of smoke and fire that had very nearly killed him. He coughed, the little air that reached his lungs wasn't enough, the convulsions in his chest made his eyes water, his head ache. Something was placed over his face and he looked up wildly to see one of the paramedics holding a mask. And then everything became a little foggy, his body heavy, and he fell fast, heart racing as he pictured Severus, body strewn as he lay dying. And how it was his fault.


	8. Chapter 8

It was strange, Harry considered, how St Mungo's was very much like an ordinary hospital. It had the same smell, the same kind of staff who seemed perpetually stressed out and with not enough time to devote fully to one person. They still used machines to monitor people, although they must have used magic somehow, Harry knew that from the amount of times Hermione had told him that no electrical item can work within a magical field. That and the fact that Dean had once tried to use his gameboy in the dorms to no avail.

It had been three days, three long and painful days while he was hooked up to some sort of ventilator that infused a potion into the air he brethed so that his lungs would heal. He'd been told they'd done their best, but there was some irreparable damage that could effect him in later lift, apparently the alveoli in his lungs had glossed due to the extreme heat and as a result he had a lesser surface area for oxygen to be absorbed. Harry was just thankful to be alive.

He'd been visited many times over the past couple of days, both Albus and Minerva had been by, telling him about the castle. Apparently damage to the actual structure was minimal, only broken windows and beams, but it was the content that took the brunt. It seemed that most of Ravenclaw tower and the surrounding corridors had taken all the damage. The cause was somewhat dubious, Albus had talked to all the students who had been present the night of the party, and most could recall setting off some of the indoor fireworks, but the explosives in question had been bought from a back street dealer in hogsmead, and instead of getting the usual wet start, no heat versions that they were described as being, the poor students got the real deal.

A couple of students had to be taken in for smoke inhalation but had been released quickly, some of their parents had come along to find Harry and thank him for his efforts, many getting quite tearful and offering him rewards, all of which he politely refused. Right now, he was just grateful to be allowed out of bed, but he wasn't allowed to go far, and he always found that no matter where he went there was always a pair of eyes watching him.

He'd come across this room about half an hour ago, it's curtains drawn and the air a little warm. It's occupant was asleep, and appeared as though he would be for some time. He lay on his front, propped by pillows a little to one side making it easier to breathe. Such a position left his back exposed, although right now it was covered, layers of white bandages crisscrossed over the raw expanse, blood still seeping through. A machine beeped quietly in the corner as it measured out a dose of something and pushed it along a thin tube that ran between the bars on the bed, around the loop taped to his wrist and under the skin.

Harry stood in the doorframe and watched Severus breath, following the deep methodical pattern himself. He couldn't help the twisting, gnawing feeling in his gut as he let his eyes trace the damage. Most of the minor damage had been taken care of, the light burns would have been healed in amoment just like his had been. But the deeper, more lasting damage required much more. They relied on a persons ability to heal, there was only so much magic that could be forced onto one's body before it has effects of it's own. Harry had cornered a nurse earlier as she passed, and she had explained that they'd had to put him in a forced coma as it would allow him a better chance at a full recovery. She placed a hand consolingly on his arm and told him not to worry, but it hadn't helped. Instead he kept his vigil, losing track of the minutes that ticked by.

Eventually a nurse came by to remind him that, while he was allowed to be out of bed, he should really be resting right now. Harry conceded, his legs did feel a little weak and his chest still ached a bit from the rapid healing. So he allowed himself to be tucked into bed, and the nurse asked if he would like anything to drink. Harry asked for a glass of water and drank it slowly when it came. He curled up on his side, looking out the window at the crowded London skyline and allowed his thoughts to run along on their miserable tracks.

It did all seem to happening to him at the moment. But no matter how hard he tried to feel sorry for himself, an agonizing wave of guilt struck him, and the image of the occupant of that darkened room filled hi mind. Why did he come back for him? It was a question Harry had thought a thousand times over. Everybody knew, you don't go into a fire, not for anybody. Harry had known he was being stupid the moment he'd done it, but his head had been foggy and his damned batter nature had once again thrown his reason to the side and given it a good, swift kicking. If it hadn't been for his bravado then Severus wouldn't be lying in pain down the hall. If it hadn't been for his bravado then who knows how many students could have died.

Minerva had admonished him several times when she'd seen him, told him time and time again that during a school emergency the wards are dropped and the services called, that there was no need for him to risk his own life. But Harry had forgotten that, figured that when he'd joined the staff it would have been a routine thing to be told, but it was all gone. He wondered what other lifesaving knowledge he'd known, simple things and rules that had been so easily discarded from his mind. He was beginning to wonder if he was a bit of a liability to the staff and students of Hogwarts.

But still, Severus had come back for him.

Harry wasn't sure how that made him feel, in fact, Harry had an inkling of how that made him feel and the very concept of it terrified him. He couldn't even begin to describe the feelings he'd had when Severus appeared behind him in the fire, of course, he'd been relieved, but the utter fear that had raced through his veins at the sight of him disappearing through those flames left him questioning himself.

He was the man at the door, he knew it now, felt it in his bones. The knowledge of it had been creeping up on Harry, some weird disquieting emotion that played at the back of his mind whenever he would see the other man. How could he have possibly known what it had meant.

Harry curled up tighter into a ball. What the hell was he going to do? Clearly his 'former' self had spent enough time in Snape's company to develop these kind of feelings, but now, Harry had no knowledge of all those evenings spent talking and drinking, just these echoes lingering on the edge of thought. And what about Severus? Did he feel anything for Harry? Could that explain his self sacrificial actions in the castle. Had they talked about this, Severus hadn't mentioned anything to Harry, but why would he. Had they confesed all to each other. Harry sucked in a shuddering breath, feeling like he was on the edge of tears. What if Severus didn't feel the same. Was Harry doomed to walk the path of unrequited love, sure they were friends, best friends apparently, but could the boundaries ever be crossed.

And what would he do if his assumptions were right, what if Severus felt for Harry what Harry was so sure he felt for Severus, then what! Harry didn't know if he was comfortable with that idea. He essentially felt for someone who he had no knowledge of. It was an odd concept, as though he had some sort of responsibility.

There was a knock at the door and Harry peered over his shoulder to see who it was. Hermione peeked round the door, an assortment of balloons clattering in the doorway.

"Hey." She said softly, shutting the door quietly behind her. "I'm so sorry that I couldn't come any earlier, there were exams to invigilate and dissertation proposal meetings, I'm so sorry." She winced as though she expected Harry to shout at her.

"Don't worry about it." He smiled back, "Now, if I'd been dying then that would have been a different matter." He shifted around in the covers as he sat up. "Any word from Ron?"

Hermione lowered her eyes to the ground, shaking her head. "no, but it's not uncommon for treaties to go on like this, especially out in the unknown lands." Harry remembered the unknown lands, parts of the old USSR that were too far north for people to inhabit. He really felt for Ron at that moment.

"But anyway, how are you?" she asked, helping herself to a chair and tying the balloons to the end of his bed.

"They say I can go tomorrow, as soon as the doctors been round, whenever that is. Albus wants me to go back to the school, but I feel like I need a little time on my own to get my head round this, so I might just go to my house in London, get myself reacquainted with home."

"That sounds like a good idea, mind you, make sure you take it easy, I mean, you've been through quite a bit these past few weeks."

"Yes, I know." Harry rolled his eyes at her, like he hadn't heard it from everybody else! "I just really need some time."

Hermione looked at him, at the circles under his eyes and the tiredness on his face. "Harry?" he looked at her, eyes shot red. "Are you okay?" it wasn't one of those face value questions, which people ask to be polite. She really wanted to know.

"I don't know." He said and shook his head. "Everythings a bit of a mess at the moment, and I don't know what to do."

"Why? What's the matter?" She looked at him with concern.

"I don't know, I don't think I'm comfortable talking about it, because I don't even know how I feel about it myself."

Hermione gave a short laugh. "Oh, Harry! Please, how long have we been friends. You know you can tell me anything. I won't say a word, not even to Niall, Harry I promise." She looked sincere, and Harry had never doubted her trust before.

"It's awkward." He said, as though trying to dissuade her. But she just tilted her head to show she was listening. He breathed hard through his nose. "I think, I mean… I know now, who …I have feelings for." He looked at his hands twisted in the bed sheet, just saying those words aloud gave them new meaning, made it real. Whe he looked up Hermione was beaming at him.

"You remembered more?" she asked happily.

"No." Harry noticed her frown, "I know because…I see them, and I feel…Oh God, Hermione. It's just one huge mess." He rubbed his hands hard over his face.

She leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. "Harry, what is it?"

"I don't know what to do, I don't know how to handle this." He let out a growl.

"Harry, calm down," She soothed, "Tell me, what is it that's bothering you."

Harry calmed a little, forcing himself not to get worked up. He let his hands fall back down into the covers. "Severus." He whispered. There was a moment of silence.

"I don't follow." Hermione said, but Harry could tell by the look in her eye that she was formulating her own theories pretty quickly.

"It was him," he said softly, "He was the guy at the door, it was him that I was waiting for. I didn't even realise till the other day, when I was in that fire. And he was there, and my God Hermione, I have never been so frightened in my life, not for me, for him. I'm not even sure I understood it at the time, but when he left, and I couldn't see him coming back, I just…I can't even begin to describe it." He stared numbly at the pattern of the weave on the blanket. "And now he's here, because he came back for me, and the doctors won't even tell me if he'll make a full recovery."

"Harry, you didn't ask for him to come for you, so you can't blame yourself. And as for your feelings for him, to be honest Harry, I can't say I'm surprised." Harry looked at her questioningly. "I mean, you guys are, pretty much the same person." She shrugged, "I had always wondered, I asked you a couple times but you told me that you were just friends and you seemed genuinely just that. But Harry, if you're worrying about how he may feel for you then I don't think you have a problem, I mean, he went into a fire to get you!" she waved her hand at this apparent evidence.

"Because he's my friend," Harry retorted, "I'd do just the same for you or Ron, doesn't mean I love you."

"But Harry, this is Severus!" Hermione stressed, "He has friends, and then he has you." She looked at him in sympathy, which irked him a little.

"Even so," he changed the course, "I don't even know what to do about it. Sometimes, I'll see him and all I'll see is Snape, you know. I don't know this man, I mean I know him, but…ugh, it's just so strange. To see someone only a few weeks ago you hated, and who hated you, and then find that whenever you see them, your stomache does this stupid little pirouette and back flip combination that earns a good nine points from the self deprecation fairy." He tossed his covers aside and got out of bed, pacing to the window. "I can't even say what I feel. My old self knows how to feel, it knows our history together, I don't! I have no context to put this in, it's not gradual for me." He thudded his head against the window in frustration and glared at the street below at all the people walking past a busy hospital without even knowing it was there.

Hermione was at his side, leaning against the wall and looking at him. "I wish I could understand Harry, really I do. I can't even begin to consider how this must be for you, you've never mentioned any of this before, which makes me believe that you havn't said anything to him either, but Harry, this man cares for you, I can see it even if you can't. maybe you should talk to him, explain how you feel and see what he has to say, I don't know him as well as you, but even I know he's not going to be insensitive."

Harry rolled his head against the window, eyes closed and headache forming. How could he possibly talk to Severus about this, he'd be mortified, he'd probably tell Harry that the blow to the head was more serious than he thought.

But he came back for him.

And that one little thought made his stomach lurch a little higher, his heart beat a little faster. Maybe.

"Look, why don't you get back into bed," Hermione said, "Working yourself up like this can't do you any good. I've got the prophet in my bag, you can do appalingly at the crossword like you always do if you like?" she smiled at him, Harry smiled weakly back at her, still feeling lost but on steadier ground he got into bed, Hermione fetched him a glass of water and sheaved through the paper, picking out the right page and smoothing it out on table for Harry.

"Right," he said, taking the pencil handed to him, "three down, eleven letters, 'hero', starting which 'H'," He tapped the pencil to his chin for a moment before he noticed Hermion giggling. He frowned at her as she turned the paper her way and jotted down the letters, turning it back Harry noticed she written his name in the spaces allowed. "Oh ha ha." He muttered mutinously and set about with the rest of the crossword. It turned out it was the right answer.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

The next day Harry gathered the few things he had in preparation for going home, the headmaster had said he'd wanted to see him before he left, that he had something to give him. As long as he got here before the doctor did, Harry thought, because he wasn't planning on staying any longer than he needed do. He desperately needed to get away, from everyone and everything and just give himself time to think. He ran the comb through his hair again and perused his reflection in the small mirror above the sink in the corner of his room. He tossed it onto his bed as he sat down and pulled his slipper socks on. He'd never been one for actual slippers, and floors were cold, so he'd had to compromise somewhere.

He went in search of tea.

The door was till open, and the curtains were still drawn and Harry could just make out the soft sound of breathing. He hesitated, looking up the corridor and his route to hot drink satisfaction, and then back in the warm, dark room. He sighed heavily and sidled into the room.

His dressing had been changed and he seemed to be getting better. Harry stood quietly by the bed looking down at him, his mind and his heart at war. He pressed his eyes shut, feeling so desperately miserable. He swallowed hard and faught against the tears he refused to let fall. He wasn't going to let this get to him. He'd spent all last night thinking things over, none of the options coming to any fruition except one. That he would just have to carry on, get to know him again and see how things went from there. It was a crap plan, he was aware, but what else did he have to go on. The only way to stop this pull of sense and madness was to eliminate the side of him that still saw this man as his professor, to learn him all over again. At least then would this strange sense of betrayal to his past vanish.

He let his breath go and focused on watching him breathe, strands of his hair strring from where they had fallen across his face. Carefully Harry reached out and brushed them back, mixing them back in with the others. He felt his fingers linger, just savouring the feather light touch. He watched as Severus' eyes flickered but they didn't open.

"Harry?"

He turned his head slightly and saw Albus out of the corner of his eye. He said nothing. The headmaster joined him at his side. Neither said anything for a while, just watched and wondered. Eventually Albus spoke.

"I went to the ministry." He said quietly, Harry furrowed his brow, but kept his eyes on the bed. "I wanted to get you some things. I think that maybe they could help."

Finally Harry looked at him, and saw that he was holding a box. "It's all the evidence from the final battle." Albus explained, "Maybe it will bring something back."

Harry idly wondered whether it was something he wanted to remember, but decided that it couldn't hurt, it was also something that had peaked his curiosity over the past couple of weeks.

"Maybe I should show you in your room." The headmaster offered.

Harry nodded silently and followed the old man out, pausing slightly to look back just one more time.

Back in his room he watched as the headmaster carefully lifted the lid from the box, and took out the thick folder that lay on top. "This is just the write up, it's basically the transcript of events that were captured on these." He put the folder down on the bed and reached into the box, he pulled out what looked like a prism, a pyramid of dark crystal roughly two inches high. "These were used to film the assault so that the ministry would have evidence enough to convict any Death Eaters who managed to get away."

Harry took it carefully from the headmaster and gently turned it over in his hand. "Don't ask me how they work," Albus said genially, "I'm terrible with technology. All I know is that as soon as the aurors infiltrated the building they scattered these wherever they went, so as to gather as much footage as they could. The ones marked with red stickers mean that they contain evidence that was crucial to the trial, the others weren't as much help, but valuable none the less. There are instructions on how to activate them and view it's contents, its all here in the box, and these" he said, bringing out what looked like the auror badges that they wore. "These were used to record the first stage, when you went in first, there was no way of gaining any live footage so we had to rely on this for our cue and any damning evidence." He placed it back among the others that were there and turned to face Harry fully. "I know you want to have some time to yourself, but just remember that you can always come up to the castle, or call me any time, even if you just feel like a talk. I'm never too busy for someone who needs me." He smiled and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder who soaked up the comfort it gave. He thanked the headmaster and put the prism back in the box, replacing the folder and pushing the lid down firmly.

"Now, it's best Harry, if no one else saw that." Albus said, pointing to the box, "strictly speaking it's not supposed to leave the ministry in case some of it gets lost or stolen. But I explained to them the situation and considering they owe you the biggest favour, they agreed to lend it to me. So please be careful."

Harry said that he would and thanked the man again for visiting, which was precisely the moment that the doctor decided to come in. Albus wished him luck and told him he'd be on his way. Harry felt a little sadness at his parting, beginning to feel that he was truly on his own, that after this he would be going into the unknown. But that's what he wanted, wasn't it?

The doctor checked him over thoroughly and made a few more notes in his file, filled out a prescription for him to take home in case he was in any pain, but none the less decreed that he was fit to go. Harry thanked him and the nurses for their care and attention, making one of them blush. And he went about getting changed back into his own clothes and putting his things into a bag. After a brief visit to the pharmacy and a confusing experience with the lift he found himself back on the street and struggling to read the address he had scrawled on the back of an envelope. He wondered if he should get the train, but then realised he didn't know what stop to get off at. Eventually he got a taxi


	9. Chapter 9

Harry spent the next couple of days doing nothing, he spent the first day watching the entire extended edition of lord of the rings, he'd nearly fallen into conniptions when he'd opened the draw to find them. The next day was spent on the terrace after he'd accidentally found it when he'd finally gotten around to opening the kitchen curtains whilst making a cup of tea. It turned out that a lot of the neighbourhood cats used it as some sort of meeting place and were a little put out by Harry's sudden arrival.

Eventually he came to a stand still, leaning in the doorway to his living room and staring at the box from the ministry he'd placed behind the couch. In a way he'd been avoiding it, just happy to have some time on his own to just veg out. But he felt as though he owed it to himself and others to at least start on the pretence of trying. Sighing in a very irritated fashion he placed his cup of coffee down on the table and hefted the box up to sit along side it. Casually he flipped the lid off and discarded it on the floor at his feet. He lifted the file off the top and glanced at it briefly, flicking through the pages, most of which was transcript, Harry noted that there was a lot of swearing.

He rooted through to the bottom, causing all the little prisms to jingle against each other until he came upon the instructions. He read through them carefully picking up one of the stones to peruse it as he turned it in the light. Setting it down carefully he resumed his drink, scowling moodily at the miniature pyramid. He drank with a dark expression on his face and pondered a minute, wondering whether he really did want to see, maybe it was a good thing that he'd forgotten. But Harry knew that no matter how much he thought like that he knew that in the end his curiosity would get the better of him, like it always did.

Muttering about how much of a bad idea this was he picked the instructions back up, lips moving as he recalled the spell to activate them. It mentioned that it was best to view the footage in the dark so Harry hauled himself up from the sofa and carefully drew the curtains, making sure that no light peeked in through any gaps. Sitting down again he squinted at the sheet in the darkness and picked up the first prism he laid a hand on. It was marked with a yellow sticker, meaning that the evidence on it wasn't crucial. Harry felt it safer to start here, not entirely loving the idea of suddenly being thrown into the midst of chaos and disorder. He placed the pyramid on the coffee table in front of him, checked the instructions one more time, then waved a hand over it whilst muttering the incantation "Video primus," that would activate the first side of imagery.

As soon as he said it light poured forth from the crystal straight back at Harry, playing over his skin and clothes as though he were standing in front of a projector. He leaned forward and turned it so that the image was displayed on the wall, Harry quickly getting up and removing a picture so that he could see it more clearly. The image rolled, clattering about the stone floor as it was cast, finally coming to a stop in time to see feet running past, boots the size of the table flashed across the screen and there was shouting in the background, a haze of light streaked past and a disarmourment spell was fired. Harry stared in awe at the ministry's ability to capture what was no doubt the most historical moment in the magical world on film (of sorts). There were more shouts and then whispers, a figure huddled down near the wall and motioned to someone behind this side of the prism, another figure rushed over, tipping the crystal as he went so that the entire world skewed sideways and Harry had to tip his head to keep up. The two men conversed in hushed tones for a couple of seconds and then left one after another. The scene remained empty for quite some time and after about ten minutes Harry started to look back through the instructions to find out if there was some way of fast forwarding it. He'd just found the relevant text when there was a clattering of footfalls and a struggle came into view, there was a flash of blue light and a hoarse curse and then suddenly the screen was filled with the face of Lucius Malfoy. His face pressed down by one of the aurors that knelt above him while the other concentrated on taking his wand and incapacitating him. Harry watched in rapt attention as the elder Malfoy spat vitriolic insults and barbs at them, screaming about the fall of the ministry and praising his lord. Harry couldn't help but snort out a laugh at the pathetic loyalty to a mad man and spared a quick thought for Draco Malfoy, idly wondering what fate had befallen him.

Harry went on to watch the other sides of the prism but it was mostly just different angles of what he'd just seen. He had to admit that it was a brilliant invention, allowing maximum coverage with minimal intervention. Finally finished with it he placed it to one side so as not to get it confused. He reached into the box and his hand collided with one of the badges that Albus had shown him, the ones that had only been able to record sound, his name written onto a thin sticker and placed along where the officer name would ordinarily be. Harry held it lightly in his hand as he read over the instructions.

Raising an eyebrow he gingerly placed it on the table where the prism had been and muttered the spell.

"…adius on those things anyway."

The voice rang out as clear as day, as though they were actually sat in the room.

"About a mile or so, but that doesn't account for obstructions and elemental interferences."

"Is it on?" he recognised his own voice, disturbingly odd when it came from nowhere.

"Should be, hang on." That was Kingsley, there was a faint rummage in the back ground, "Say something."

"Like what?"

"That'll do fine. Works great."

It was quiet for a while, just the rustling of paper and clothes. Someone cleared their throat and there was a faint bless you after a sneeze.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Harry would recognise Tonks' voice anywhere, even now when she spoke in hushed tones.

"Of course not." He heard himself reply, the nervousness apparent in his voice.

"It'll all be over soon." She said, obviously trying to comfort him, but sounding far from sure herself.

"Where are the others?"

"Waiting for Severus." There was more silence, in which Harry could only imagine what was happening, no doubt he'd be checking his watch or something along the lines.

"He should be here by now." He sounded impatient. "If we miss the signal we could lose everything."

"He'll be here, they don't even now when….oh…..Harry."

There was the sound of people entering a room talking in hurried voices and over the top of them the imperious voice of Kingsley Shaklebolt telling them to quiet down and take their positions. There was a sound of movement close by.

"You scared the shit out of me then." Harry whispered fiercly.

"What, didn't think I was gonna show?" Severus replied, his voice low but casual.

"Don't even play with me Severus." Harry sounded pissed off.

"I was late because they had a problem with this bloody thing." Harry frowned and reached for the transcript, paging through it until he found the right page. Apparently Severus' audio capture unit had malfunctioned and needed to be replaced. He continued to read along side the spoken diatribe.

"I just…..I just don't want anything to go wrong. I want this to be it."

"It will be."

"Harry?" an Auror Harry hadn't heard of, or couldn't remember. There were a few short seconds of silence and then a audible click. Harry read in the transcript that he had just been handed the gun that would kill Voldemort. Even though he was safely ensconced in his sofa, in his private little house in north London he still felt a wave of trepidation crash over him. For him, this was the first time.

"Okay guys! Listen up." Kingsley was speaking over the top of the hushed voices. "You've all been briefed, can I have the second unit back please." There was a general murmur of movement, "Thank you, I need this area clear for first response. Those wearing audio capture, I'm gonna need you to maintain audio silence until first response cue. Did you get that." A lot of 'yes Sir's' rumbled out of the badge. Harry could hear Kinglsey sigh as though he felt he were talking to a bunch of seven year olds. "Harry, Severus," his voice was much quieter now, "there going to be a thirty second delay between your signal and the arrival of our troops, now, when you get to…"

There was a sharp pained noise and Harry heard himself call Severus' name.

"Now." He muttered darkly. His response echoed around the room, repeated itself among the ranks of Aurors and steadily grew in volume until it was all they could here.

"Okay,…err…go!" It was obvious that Kingsley had been caught off guard and he focused on trying to keep his men quite.

"Do you have it?" Harry asked him, the marble like tracking element as described in the transcript.

"How long have I been doing this!" he snapped back. "Yes, of course."

"Severus!" Kingsley urged him.

"I'm going!" he shouted back, "Christ!" there was a heavy silence in which nothing happened, and then, "Good luck Harry." His voice low but mindful of the badges.

"Ill see you in a minute." He whispered back.

Footsteps moved away and a door opened and closed. There was a general hush as Kingsley asked once again for silence. Harry waited, years later, heart thudding as he listened to his own breathing.

"He's gone." He heard in the background, "Waiting for telemetry." Again the silence, every second ached in its presence and Harry reckoned that he was probably just as nervous now as he would have been then.

"Got him." There was a hiss of approval.

"Harry?" Kingsley's voice was so close it made Harry jump. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." He replied shakily

"Okay, go to the apparition point and wait for our signal."

Harry actually heard himself swallow and the movement of his robes as he'd stood. He listened to the footsteps and the way they changed as he walked over first wooden floor, then concrete, then grass. He cleared his throat.

Harry wasn't entirely clear what the signal was, but he noticed the instant he'd apparated, the sounds around him were of the forest, night creatures making their way through the trees. Slowly, footsteps made their way as quietly as they could along the leaf strewn floor, each footfall sounding crisp and loud in the night air. They stopped as voices sounded up ahead.

Harry was doing some pretty quick back reading, finally finding the document that detailed the plan lain out by the ministry of magic. Harry was to follow Snape, and provide enough distraction (by maintaining a debate with Severus about his allegiances, Kingsley's signal to Harry, it turned out, was given by Snape as soon as he'd glimpsed fellow Death Eaters). The plan was to draw them to the scene, incapacitate Harry and provide a suitable focus for the death eaters so that they didn't notice the aurors sneaking up behind them. Stage two was to engage, disposing of as much outside threat as possible whilst also being outnumbered. Eventually they would have been captured. Which is when the second wave came in, their path cleared by the first response making it easier to breach the stronghold. It was, Harry noticed, a plan so full of flaws and plot holes that it seemed a bloody miracle that it had passed in the ministry.

He turned his attention back to the badge, where his footsteps were crunching loudly, breath forced and loud and then, with no warning there was a shout and a smack, apparently he'd just punched Snape. Which was something Harry doubted he'd be allowed to forget.

"I knew it!" he heard himself shout, there was some more scuffling. "I fucking knew it." There was another sharp smack, He'd been hit this time and he heard himself swear and fall into the soft bed of leaves, kicking them about as he struggled to regain his balance.

"Severus!" a faint voice in the background calling out to Snape, sounding a lot like Lucius Malfoy, and soon the sound of more hastened steps filled the air.

"It's Potter!" Snape shouted, obviously through a struggle.

"You fucking sold us out." Harry growled, hearing footsteps coming closer. And then he heard himself mutter darkly, "This had better bloody work." Before his face was pushed into the dirt and Snape gained the upper hand.

There was an ear splitting screeching, like white noise on full volume that made Harry jump and stumble forward to try and stop it, but just as his fingers brushed the cold metal the dull voice of a ministry official chipped in. "This audio recall device worn by Harry Potter was damaged at precisely ten forty seven, due to forceful actions upon his person detailed in the ministry report numbered two hundred and twenty one."

The voice stopped and the room was quiet, disturbingly quiet after listening to himself. Harry slumped back against the sofa and focused on the badge sitting on his table. He let his eyes wonder over the box and it's contents. There was over three days of footage, of an event that lasted no longer than an hour. Cautiously he lifted his foot and toed the box, listening to the mass of prisms and badges that clattered around inside. How would he get through all this? Did he even want to?

With a staggering display of gracefulness he slid off the sofa, spun a little and headed for the door, yanking his coat from it's hook and throwing it on and pocketing the keys that he'd left on the hall table. He headed out the door. Only to come back a second later to throw his coat back down the hall because it was a little too warm out.

He walked, head down low, along the dusty street, his eyes following the cracks and lines in the pavement and he went through his thoughts. How on earth did Albus expect this to help? He'd already read the newspaper report, he'd seen the look on his face, did he really want to go back to something that had raised such horror in him.

But this was the death of Voldemort. This was something he'd been waiting for his entire life, had permeated every thought and dream he'd had. It was something momentous, real history. How could he not know, him, Harry Potter.

He stopped off at a newsagents and bought the paper, stepping outside he tucked it under his arm and reached into his back pocket for a fag, which was a little bent but he lit it anyway, sucking the smoke back into his lungs at the same time a pretty girl walked past him and said hi. Harry frowned a little as she went into the shop and assumed that he must regularly see her around. He shook his head, taking the cigarette from his lips he started back the way he'd come.

He wasn't exactly keen on the prospect of three days of watching the same thing from a thousand different angles. He'd come back to London to find some time for himself, but he knew that if he sat around his thoughts would eventually turn back to what he'd left behind in a dark room at St. Mungo's. And that train of thought wasn't one he wanted to peruse much further either. Catch 22.

He lifted his arm and looked at his watch. It wasn't even twelve yet, he'd been late getting up, and it wasn't as though the two bouts of video and audio had taken up a lot of his time. He scuffed his sneaker against the curb, trying to get the chewing gum that he'd just stepped in off. He looked back up at his house and down the road again, at the way the midday sun filtered through the hazy air. Enjoying the sun a little he sat down on his step, taking another drag and slapping the paper down next to him. He leaned back onto his elbows, essentially sprawled in the sunshine, and watched as he was ignored by his neighbour who trotted down the steps next to his, a rat like thing wearing a pink fur collar perched in her arm.

He would, he figured after a while, go in, he would watch the key tape, the main evidence, would see himself as a murderer. Then he would go out, maybe go to south bank for a walk, or sit in the park around the corner, get some more sun.

Even as he thought it he felt some trepidation, like he'd just set himself a sentence. He fingered the butt of his cigarette, taking one last drag before stubbing it out on the step and casting it haphazardly at his neighbour's bin, which it missed. He stood up and dusted off his trousers, said 'hi' to the pretty girl as she walked past again and then fished for his keys, which were too far down in his tight pockets.

Slumped again on his sofa, but feeling better for the sun, he reached forward and dragged the box onto his lap, raking through it's contents looking for the one black sticker, for the prism whose evidence was used to damn the rest of the death eaters and provided conclusive evidence of Voldemorts death and Harry's method of doing so. For a full five minutes he looked through, pulling each one out and checking all it's sides, muttering and cursing the ministry under his breath and their stupidity of putting a black sticker on a black crystal. Eventually he found it, resting in the palm of his hand. Such an innocuous little thing. He placed it apart from the others while he scooped them all back into the box until all that adorned his table was the damning evidence.

Harry steeled himself for a moment, shoulders hunched as he leaned his elbows on his knees, hair in his eyes as he stared unseeing at the little crystal. Slowly the seconds ticked by and there were no distractions, no one at the door, no phone ringing, no cats screeching in the yard which would cause him to get up and investigate. Nothing but silence and the pattern of dust motes dancing in the streak of light that escaped the curtains. With nothing else to do, Harry leaned forward and waved his hand, muttering the spell.

Again the wall was awash with colour, sound filled the air, but they'd come in this time in the thick of the action, by now the aurors had made it through the perimeter and into the very heart of the manor. It was utter chaos, flashes of light erupted from nowhere, and screams and shouts blended with the sound of spells shouted over the din. It was large room, no doubt the ball room where the dark lord held court, black velvet and red silk banners draped from the ceiling, flames licking the hem of some, the archaic furniture was tipped, the long tables that had been laden with food and wine were now used as trench walls. It was terrifying, the air alive with light and death. Harry stared, mesmerized by the carnage, watching as a death eater stumbled into view, clutching his head and screaming. He fell to his knees as his skin started to fall from his face in chunks that fell to the floor and scattered like the rain, a grizzly pool of flesh and blood oozed out from under his robes as he continued to scream, his voice gurgling as the liquefying organs pushed their way out of his mouth to join the rest of his body melting onto the floor. In less than thirty seconds there was little more to him than an odd mish mash of disfigured and twisted bones and a sodden black robe.

The fire continued from each side, one end of the hall thick with death eaters protecting their lord who was giving more than he got. He ended lives with such careless ease, sending one auror arcing through the air to land, skidding across the floor and into the grizzly remains of the death eater, the sickening mix of blood and flesh washing over the handsome features of the ministry official. Harry held back a retch, hand pressed to his face as he saw arms ripped from bodies, heads folding in on themselves, eyes turning black, and the agony as their owners tried to scratch them out themselves, insides spilled on the floor picked up and held vainly back to the body where they belonged. The floor soon became a slush of human entrails and blood, making the fighters slip, their fires more inaccurate.

Amongst all this Harry saw himself, off to the side at the thicker end of things, unable to do more than constant shield spells due to the barrage of fire being aimed at him. He was surprised at himself, at the look of fire in his eyes, a stubborn rage to end things. At the rate he was casting Harry wondered how he was still standing, that kind of drain would have had him on the floor by now, but still he stood, with a few men behind him, dodging and ducking to save a little energy, the bright flashes of deadly spells soaking into his shield when he couldn't. He moved, and spun, his hair wild and his face fierce, not even a flicker of his eyes as the auror behind him was torn, bright crimson arcs flew like thrown paint to join the rest of the blood trickling between the flagstones.

And even as he went through the patterns of this deadly dance he watched, waited, for the very opportunity to end all this, for that brief fraction of a second that would allow him enough time. But until then he twisted and leaped, ducking and diving as he traversed the room, more able now to throw out some more lethal spells, rending a mans head from his shoulders with no more than a muttered command. He slipped in the gore, crashing to his knees, hands wrist deep in the decaying flesh but his grip still tight on his wand. He rolled as a pulse of festering orange light streaked towards his head narrowly missing the deadly spell, he rushed to his feet, his sodden robes sticking to his jeans, between the charms thrown up around him he shucked it, letting it fall to the floor and freeing himself up to move a little faster. His attention was caught by a small knot of deatheaters near the doors, beyond them Harry could hear the continued battle but he couldn't allow these to leave, to possibly outnumber his men. He lunged, trainers slipping and sliding on the floor as he threw out a stream of curses, one knocking a man to the floor, another grazing the face of a woman who screamed as though it had been a personal affront and headed for Harry, her eyes dark and her lips curled back. She flung out her arm and from her wand a brilliant blue light surged forth, so beautiful in its path that Harry was temporarily caught up in the surrealty of the moment, of the muted screams that entered his mind through a cloud, the clawing hand at his ankle went unnoticed, a man begging for his help.

His heart faltered. They couldn't do this. It was too much, they'd lost too many already and here he was with death racing towards him in such a seductive package. And suddenly it was all sound and vision again, the spell grazed his ear as he was yanked to the side, his body spun in a sickening motion as he was steered around a column and found himself back to back with Snape who found time to shout at him between spells.

"What the fuck are you doing.!"

Harry shook his head, trying to regain his mentality. What was he doing?

"Damnit Harry, find the god damned moment."

Harry looked about him wildly. Snape was right. This was why he was here, it was him they needed. Back here was a little better, the enemy wasn't so thick and they had time to breath between each spell.

"Okay." Harry said, not sure of his voice at all. "Cover me." Shouted over the rest of them.

As it turned out. It was the perfect moment. He threw himself around the column, crashing to his knees as he fumbled at his side for the weapon, a band of aurors firing all at once like a winter firework display as he unclipped the band and hefted the solid weight into his hands, levelling them and clasping the handle like he had all those thousand times in practice. It was almost second nature now, he could feel where the bullet would land by the way he body was placed. But Voldemort had seen him, had smiled that sickening smile that Harry hated and fired his predictable green light at him. Harry rolled, tucking the gun into his chest, mindful of the fact that the safety wasn't on and his finger was still on the trigger. "Fire at him!" he shouted above the din, the smell of ozone thick in his sinuses as the aurors turned as one, their fire aimed at one sole spot. It left them open, but it was all Harry needed, he ducked, stood, spun as he avoided one last spell and then he was there, red eyes barely flickered upon his own when a loud crack rung through the air, louder and more real than any spell. For a second eternity hung in the air, the eyes paled in confusion and then flared again in anger, a hand raised but Harry was still there, gun level as he fired again, propelling the body back, arms flailing as more and more bullets struck home. Harry stopped and looked at this supposed dark lord, thankful that he'd saved the last one for this. Glad that Voldmort could look upon him at the point of his death and know that it was him, Harry, who had brought about his downfall, the child he could never quite kill had now had enough. With perfect stance he raised the gun one last time, eye closed as he peered along the length. It would be perfect. The finger on the trigger squeezed. The last sharp bang echoed starkly off the cold stone walls and Harry opened his eye, enough to focus on the neat hole between pale red eyes before the body slumped, falling gracelessly to the dirty floor.

Complete silence.

Complete shock.

But the shock was greater for some than others. In their remiss the death eaters were taken, enough of the ministry there to take away those who had finally witnessed the fall of their master. Most went quietly, their grief to great to do much, but some fought to the bitter end, others tried to flee but were caught in the outer corridors.

Harry stood alone, arms heavy at his side.

It was over.

Finally.

The gun fell from his nervelss fingers, clattering to the floor, it's sound so loud after the silence.

Everything was done now, everything that had lead up to this point had been advocated. Utter freedom, for everyone, but most blessedly for him. He could feel warmth on his face, the faint tickling of something tracing his features. He wiped his hand across his lips, smudging the thick blood to mix with his own sweat.

He looked down, at the crumpled way he lay. Defeated.

"Harry?"

Silence. And then,

"Severus?"

A hand lay against his arm, a human touch amongst the hellish wash of death that had torn this place asunder. "Harry?"

"I'm fine." Such automated responses never worked, but right now, neither of them knew of anything better.

With nothing more to do Harry turned, his steps careful as they sought out a safe path, finally there were no more expectations.

Even so he clutched his head, a guttural growl ripping at his throat as suddenly he woke, his body jumping enough to pitch him clear of the sofa. Gasping, Harry looked about himself, at his living room, still dark from where he'd drawn the curtains, his sofa solid against his back. He breathed hard, noting that the video playback had stopped. With a lurch he crossed the room and found himself with the bin in his lap, emptying what little was in his stomach until the muscles cramped in protest.

With that over he leant back, head tipped against the door frame as he stared numbly at the wall, a look of shock and horror on his face. He had seen it. Seen it all. He had been there, in mind and soul. Could still feel the sickening sensation of sliding in someone else's blood, could still taste the rank blood of the dark lord on his tongue. He pitched forward again, his stomach retching.

Breathing hard he shook his head, horrified at the vision. He'd been curious, but thought that a detached mentality would be enough to repress any true remembrance. But it must have been a trigger, as though his mind was trying to give his memories back, but waiting for the right cue.

He breathed in hard through his nose and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. It was gone now, it happened years ago. Anger welled inside him, at himself, and at Albus. He knew it was his fault for watching it, but the headmaster had put it in front of him, knowing how curious Harry was. Putting the bin to one side he crawled across the room and snatched the prism from the table and threw it back into the box, tossing the lid on it he picked it up, hefting it up under his arm he stood shakily and stalked over to the door, grabbing his keys again he wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind him.

The sun was a shock to him, even though he'd been outside barely, he checked his watch, half an hour ago. It was too cheery after what he'd seen. He couldn't honestly have ever been prepared for that, his mind feeling as though he'd just left the field of battle as he stormed along the pavement to the tube station a couple of roads down. This wasn't like watching a movie, this was watching people die, real people, real blood, real lives, ended in a moment before Harry's eyes, by Harry himself.

He reached the tube station and waited patiently in line to get his ticket because he really didn't feel like having a fiver ripped up by the machine again. He must have radiated some kind of vibe because he had no obstructions getting down to the platforms and even managed to find a seat on the packed train. He clutched the box on his lap and stared darkly at his reflection in the window opposite. The lights flared and went out, flickering as the train thundered along the lines, the rhythmic swaying of the carriage doing nothing to calm Harry's nerves.

He changed at Holborn and carried on his way, unnerving fellow passengers all the way with his slightly unhinged air, as though he'd brought the feelings of the battlefield down into the hot, greasy tunnels. Eventually he came to his destination, took the steps out of the station two at a time and crossed the street without looking. He punched the number into the phone and waited, fingers tapping against the box lid as the lift descended.

With a delightful ping, the doors opened smoothly and Harry strode across the foyer, distinctly aware that every eye had turned to look at him, a disturbing look of awe and wonder on some faces. He reached the front desk, and smiling sardonically he slammed the box down, shaking the contents and rattling the smile on the receptionist.

"Present for the minister." He said cheerfully, turning to leave, "Oh, and by the way, " he called, turned to walk backwards, "Tell the idiots in archives not to label black objects with black stickers." He turned back, nearly at the lift again. "It's not exactly rocket science." He muttered to himself, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He took the lift back up and got the train to Blackfriars.

Without the weight of the box in his arm he felt a little freer to think.

How exactly had that little foray back into his past helped. Sure it had triggered a memory, and a relevant one at that. But really, he could have lived the rest of his life without seeing that. Maybe Albus was being pre-emptive, giving Harry the opportunity to witness it on his own terms rather than suddenly bombarded with the knowledge at some later, unpredictable date. He felt sick as he left the station, no doubt more to the extreme heat in the tunnel. He wrestled another fag from the packet in his back pocket, marvelling at how it had managed to stay intact, turning right he stalked off in the direction of St. Paul's.

It hadn't even served to take his mind off of other things. To see Severus there in the midst of battle had only reinforced the feelings that Harry had felt in the fire, the soft nuances of his voice came back to haunt him, so soft and quiet in the face of battle. Harry idly wondered how Snape had taken that punch in the face. Harry growled as he rounded the corner and sidestepped a pavement artist, weaving through the tourists who were here to cross the bridge. He dodged them and descended the steps that took him down to the river side where he jumped up onto the wall and sat down, looking back up the river.

The whole ordeal had left him cold, his chest ached with guilt and he kept having the most annoying emotion pulling him back tot the hospital. How many times had he put that man in danger, how many times had he saved his life, it seemed like one big circle that never ended. Harry sunk his head into his hands and watched the rats playing at the waters edge through the slits in his fingers. He was no closer to coming up with a decent solution, and now he had all this added guilt and horror piled up on top. And what had he done, filed himself away in London where he had no one to talk to. He felt hopeless and lost and afraid.

He didn't feel like he could handle this anymore, it was all getting a bit too much, too confusing with so many questions and not enough answers. And still, the only person who could probably provide him with explanations was the one person he felt he couldn't talk to. Especially now, with him lying in a hospital, because of him.

Or may maybe especially now, when Harry could talk without fear of recrimination.


	10. Chapter 10

He was beautiful when he cried. He'd always thought it. Even when he was a boy. It was something in the way he carried himself, still dignified in his grief, he never let himself fall into hysterics or the ugly bawling that led to red cheeks and running noses. Instead he would stand, a constant stalwart, with crisp trails marring his cheeks.

Severus had only ever caught him like this a few times, but each time was enough. To remind him of how human he was, that despite best efforts of the ministry, he was no machine, he was flesh, and blood and emotion.

He was precisely where he'd expected to find him, carefully he glanced at his watch, and it was nearly time. He stayed back and watched as Harry quietly pulled the petals from the flower in his hand, fingertips running over the velveteen softness before they cast them into the breeze, watching them fall into the sky. It was quiet, and respectful, watching Harry mouth his name as he held a hand to his heart. A tribute to the last fragile link to his past that was shattered in a dawn raid five years ago today.

It was hard, Severus knew, to lose everything.

"I still talk to them sometimes." Harry said softly without turning, he always knew when he was there. "I know it's a bit silly, but it helps sometimes. At night mostly." He turned then and smiled gently at Severus, such purity and pain mixed together made his heart ache. "What about you."

Severus merely shook his head. Harry knew he had no one to talk to, not in the next life.

"You're right." He looked back over towards the forest and where the trees met the shore of the lake. They were quiet for a while, each lost in their thoughts, listening to the sounds of the castle waking up around them, early morning shouts from the tower as the students fought each other to get in the shower before breakfast.

"It's been five years Severus." A sentence weighted with such depth and tiredness. As though each second since then had added another band around his heart.

"I know." He said softly.

Harry's face fell slightly, a brief flicker of anguish and a fresh tear spilt upon his cheek. "I thought it was supposed to get easier." He muttered. "I thought it wasn't supposed to hurt this much." His voice cracked and he let himself lean for support on the balustrade, his head shaking back and forth in disbelief that such a pain could still exist so freshly in his heart after all this time.

Severus stepped forward and ran his hand across Harry's shoulders, noting the slight tremble. He said nothing, they'd been over this a thousand times but it never got any easier for him. He sighed quietly, wanting nothing more than to help but knowing there was nothing he could say or do to help Harry.

He hated this. Hated this dependence he had on him, the constant need to see him, to hear him laugh, to watch him work. It was all consuming. Everything he thought of.

It was becoming ridiculous, it was affecting his work and he was damned sure that Albus had an idea about it. Even now, all his thought was filtered through his tremulous contact with his colleagues back. He had to do something.

More than anything he had to know.

Had to know what those looks meant, the little touches, the slight nuances and changes that had been growing in number for months. He hadn't really dared to hope. Actually he had, but he'd never dare believe that any sort of truth could come from them. In fact, the thought almost scared him, having only ever kept these feelings within himself, a guarded secret that he vowed to never tell. What would people think?

He was well aware of his reputation in some circles. It was common knowledge now of his participation during the war, and no matter how many times he'd been advocated, society still seemed to snag on the words Death Eater. It was strange, he knew, for people to see him now as some sort of hero, as a changed man, and more importantly, primary confidant of the boy saviour. It angered many people, families of convicted Death Eaters had actually hired hit men before; there were constant calls for his sacking from the school.

Even now he could feel the scars prickling on his wrist from where he'd tried to cut the mark away. He remembered the occasion with crystal clarity.

It was the moment he fell.

When he'd sat alone, with knife in hand and slowly, deliberately pressed it into his skin, pulling it through his flesh and watching as it parted around the metal, his blood colouring the desk as it dripped in a slow and steady pattern. He could remember being surprised at hearing the door open but not enough to try and hide what he had done. He could still see, even now, the look on Harry's face. He hadn't been angry, or repulsed, he'd held his head cocked, such a curious expression.

He'd cried then too. As he'd held his hand so gently in his and cleaned away the blood as they both sat in silence. Harry had never asked why he'd done it, never really seen the point.

He felt the body beneath his hand shudder, bringing his focus back to the present, back to Harry who silently cried.

And then suddenly he was in his arms, his long, lithe body pressed up against his own, face burying against his shoulder and hands flexing in the folds of his robes. Severus stood shocked, unprepared for such an encounter and hardly believing his luck. He quickly slammed that chain of thought. Harry was upset, was looking to him for comfort and all his lecherous mind could come up with was that. Slowly, almost hesitantly he brought his own arms up and around, enfolding the shaking man within the confines of his heavy robes.

"I'm sorry." Harry mumbled, his voice pitiful from where it emerged, muffled, by his neck, his voice thick with emotion. "It just hurts so much, knowing you have no one, that I'm alone in this world. It gets harder every day."

"You have us." Severus whispered softly into his hair.

"I know, and I'm so grateful, believe me, but sometimes I just want to see them. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." It was the best he could come up with, he didn't know what to say. What could he say? What Harry had said was true, every last little link to his past, to his family was gone, of course he still had friends, people who remembered them, but it would never be as good as having them back. He sighed himself and allowed a moment of weakness, to close his eyes and rest his cheek atop the unruly mop of hair as Harry clung to him. He would have done anything in that moment to make him happy, to see that smile upon his face, but there was nothing that he could do to bring them back, to mend Harry's heart. So instead he held him tighter, allowing him the time he needed to cry upon his shoulder in the safety of his arms.

They stood like that, the two of them, for some time, with Severus wishing it were another place, another time, until the sound of children thundering through the corridors on their way to breakfast made them see sense of the time. Harry stepped back minutely, allowing space between them to bring a hand up and wipe his eyes with the back of his black and white striped sleeve. He smiled weakly up at Severus whose hands were weighted comfortably upon his shoulders.

"I'm sorry." Harry said again, a faint blush highlighting his cheeks.

"Don't be." Severus said quietly, captured by the vision before him. He really was beautiful, and it was so hard, when Harry looked up at him like that, with barely an inch between them so that each breath mixed in the air and something sparked between them, when those green eyes softened, searching within his own for something imperceptible, and those slim, tanned hands were flat against his chest so that they pressed enticingly against him when Harry leaned forward just a bit, no more than a fingers breadth apart, and the wind picked up, making it unbearably beautiful the way that his hair mixed with his own, tangled in an unknown dance.

And then all at once it was shattered. The long, low tolling of the breakfast bell echoed through the castle. Harry rocked back, his eyes suddenly everywhere but on Severus, hand going back to wipe at his face once more. The sudden space between them was almost more than Severus could bear, feeling like his soul was being stretched out between them and that as soon as Harry turned as he knew he would, then it would shatter and break, falling to the floor in a thousand unmendable pieces.

"You should go." He found himself saying. "You'll need to eat before the game."

Harry nodded, wiping at his uniform as the breeze ruffled it. It was a beautiful day for a match, today would decide who went to the final and although Harry couldn't say, he was really hoping that Gryffindor made it.

"Will you come and watch?" Harry asked him, his eyes suddenly wide and serious, as though the question actually meant something else, as though the answer were very important to him.

"Of course." Severus replied, "And Harry?" This was it, "Do you mind if I came and talked to you later." His heart felt like lead within his chest, "There's something I want to say."

"Like what?" Harry asked, curiosity written plainly across his almost stricken face.

"It's nothing, just…something, I'll tell you later." He tried to make it sound casual, but he could tell by the look on Harry's face that he had failed.

"Is it important, just tell me." He sounded quite insistent.

"Later, I promise." Harry's started to speak but was cut off, "I'll just put you off your game. I promise I'll tell you later."

Harry said nothing more, it being obvious that Severus wouldn't tell him anything right now, but even he could tell that it was something important to him, especially after….whatever that was. Even now he could still feel his heart thudding against his chest, couldn't actually believe that he'd come that close, couldn't believe that he'd wanted to go further. His mind was still spinning, still trying to make sense of all the thoughts that were cascading through his mind. He'd wanted that, wanted more, and had done, he realised now, for a long time.

Severus could only watch as Harry floundered, wondering what was going through his mind. It couldn't be bad, he supposed, because he hadn't run yet.

The door at the end of the balustrade opened and professors Flitwick and Sinistra ambled out along the walkway, truly ending their surreal encounter.

"Morning boys." Sinistra purred, pulling that flirting face she always used among friends. "Hope the game goes well today Harry." She lightly touched his shoulder as she went past and waved at Severus who did nothing more than stare until they had left.

"I really should be going then." Harry muttered to his boots, "But come by later, yeah?" he looked up hopefully.

Severus nodded, liking the way that dread was turning to hope. And even as Harry turned to leave, looking back once to flash a quick smile at him, he could feel an definite happiness building in his chest that he was damned if he was going to quell.

Feeling more anxious than he ever had done in his life, he left to return to his office, hoping to get the last stages of an experiment out of the way before the game, hoping like hell that it would be a short one.

Hindsight would prove to be a beautiful thing, because the game was short, but he should have been hoping for a safe game.

But even hindsight was failing him now, as he clung to the memory, it slipped a little more, he became aware of an odd pain, like fire prickling up his back and conscious of another voice.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

"…and I don't know what he thought I'd make of it. I don't even know what I make of it."

Harry settled again into silence, his shoes kicked off and feet propped up on the bed. It was disturbingly hot in the small room, he'd cracked the window a little but drawn the curtains so that they were shaded a little. He'd been there for nearly two hours now, even the nurse had come in and asked if he'd wanted a drink and looked a little despairingly at his feet on the fresh linen. But he'd seen her off with a smile.

It was a good catharsis, talking to someone who couldn't answer back, and Harry had been over all the topics that had been bothering him. He'd even talked at length about his burgeoning feelings for the other man, glad to just talk things over, some things sound better when they're said aloud.

But he felt like he was going crazy. Since he had walked in the room, something feral curled in the pit of his stomach had woken and started to crawl around. It was undeniable now. And so god damned ridiculous. He'd spent a good twenty minutes at the window with his fists in his hair trying to calm his emotions and reason with himself. Apparently what he felt was much more than he'd previously thought. It was insane, he'd thought, his head against the window, making patterns in the fog his breath left on the glass. Seriously, how was it possible to feel so much for someone you didn't know?

He stood again, taking in a heavy breath and stalking around the small room. He wiped a hand over his tired face and went back to the window. What was more annoying was that he'd been able to be rational with himself. He had reasoned that, yes, it was entirely possible, could see it himself how he could have fallen for him. Had seen that much for himself during the short time they had spent together, their conversations more lax and jovial, and his snatched memories, just more evidence.

He was about to embark on another train of thought that would only travel down the same tracks as all the others when he heard an unexpected noise behind him. He turned smoothly, looking around for its source. One of the machines took on a higher pitched beeping sound. Harry rounded the bed and dragged the chair closer to the side of the gurney. Was he waking up?

"Severus?" Harry peered at him closely, eyes flickering from the machine to his face. "Severus? Are you awake?" he reached out, placing a hand over his.

The air was heavy and tense, and Harry began to wonder whether he'd heard anything or not when a faint flicker ran across Severus' face. "Severus?" He pressed on his hand lightly, "Wake up."

Whether or not Severus heard him, or whether he was just good at circumstance Harry didn't know, but he couldn't help feeling a rush of relief when black eyes opened, blinking rapidly against the light.

Harry sighed and smiled, his other hand reaching over and brushing back his hair. "Hey." He whispered. "You had us all worried." He looked him intently as confusion ran across his face. "You're in the hospital." Harry provided, saving him from asking, "You got caught in the fire and it took them some time to get you out." He felt fingers tighten around his own and watched as he pressed his eyes shut.

"Hurts." His voice was rough and dry, but it sounded beautiful to Harry.

"I know." Harry whispered, "I'm sorry."

The machine beside him starting beeping loudly, it's alarm pinging too loud in the quiet room, and it wasn't long before an assembly of doctors and nurses burst into the room, pulling Harry away from the bed and shoving him towards the back of the room. "What's wrong?" he demanded.

One of the nurses looked up from where she was hooking up a new drip. "It's nothing, some people just have an adverse reaction when they regain consciousness. It's a bit of a shock to the system."

She squeezed the bag in her hands, forcing the new liquid through the tube.

"Mr Potter?" Harry looked at the doctor, "Could you wait outside for a moment?"

Harry was a little shocked but he nodded dumbly, straining his neck to try and see around the nurses as they saw to Severus, but he was gently guided out of the room and the door was closed behind him leaving him to stare at it blankly and wonder how he ended up out here. He looked up and down the corridor and around to the nurse's station.

"Excuse me?" he said to the nurse who was busy writing furiously on a patient chart. "Will he be okay?" he thumbed over his shoulder, his voice shaking. "I mean, it's not serious is it."

The nurse looked at him blankly, "I'm sorry," She said, "I couldn't say." And went back to writing out her notes. Harry spun around and faced the door, pressing a hand over his mouth. Why had they asked him to leave, he was doing fine wasn't he? The corridor was suddenly busy, porters pushing beds along looked at him in annoyance as he dodged them, nurses asked him in their ever polite way to move and Harry became aware that he was doing a very odd sort of dance. He dodged another wheelchair and made it safely to the other side of the corridor where there was a row of chairs which he deposited himself on.

He watched the clock. And he watched the door.

Several times the staff went back and forth but none of them would stop when Harry asked. He was beginning to think something really bad had happened and that Severus was in there alone when finally, forty five minutes later, a nurse appeared and told him that he could go back in, provided he did nothing to stress her patient.

He waited a moment whilst the others vacated the room before he stepped back in. At least he looked more comfortable, propped up on his back, but Harry couldn't help but think that it must be killing his back. He could see now that the damage wasn't just confined there. A series of bandages were taped securely to his chest, reaching beneath the sheets. But at least he was awake, and he looked pleased to him.

"Harry?" A faint smile ghosted across his lips and Harry was at his side in an instant, sitting on the side of the bed and taking hold of his hand tightly to reassure himself that he was really safe.

"My God, you had us all worried. What the hell did you think you were doing?" He couldn't help it, lashing out in his relief.

"You were still in there." Severus said simple, as if that were all the explanation that he needed. He breathed in heavily, the air rattling in his lungs.

"How do you feel?" he asked sadly, eyes roaming his beaten body.

"Agony really." He gasped out, "But they've given me something that helps. S'quite good actually." He looked up at the clear bag. "I could probably make something better though."

Harry laughed despite himself.

"We didn't expect you to wake up for quite a while yet." He said softly, "They gave you a lot of sedatives to help you recover."

"Well, I'm sure I would have been out longer had I not had someone rambling to me." He looked at Harry pointedly.

Suddenly Harry's stomach felt as though it had left his body altogether. Severus had heard him, had heard him talking about everything, about how he feels.

"Er…" he stumbled, unsure of what do say, "Well, I didn't mean to wake you. I didn't think I was that loud." He looked down at where his hand covered his, thinking that if he snatched it away now it would be too obvious and he couldn't fight the rise of the blush on his cheek.

"Well I'm sure you can wake anybody up with your vitriolic diatribe about dark lords and headmasters." He smiled faintly. "That's where I came in." Harry looked at him, a small crease on his brow, "I can tell by that delightful colour on your face that you were talking about something else."

That made Harry blush all the more.

"I've had a rough couple of days." He explained.

"Tell me." Harry's heart pulled at hearing Severus so ill so he told him, told him the long version that he had already told him whilst he was sleeping, leaving out the obvious. And Severus listened, eyes closed and breath laboured, occasionally twitching his hand to let Harry know that he was still there, but eventually he ran out of things to say so they sat in silence for a long time until Harry told Severus that he was going to let Albus know he was awake to stop the man from worrying. Severus had let out a groan at the idea of an enthusiastic headmaster being in the room but had let Harry go.

Albus had been very excited when Harry had finally gotten to a fire (Disturbingly hard to find!) and had promised to be there as soon as he could and had mentioned something about bringing a box of toffee.

When he went back to the room Severus was wearing a contemplative look and staring out the window.

"Albus said he'll be along shortly." Severus winced a little at the news. He sat back down in his chair. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Severus said listlessly, "Just something I remembered."

"What?" Harry was curious.

"Just something that happened before the match, before you got hit."

"What? What happened." He leaned forward in the chair.

"I… came to ask if I could see you after the match. I needed to tell you something." He looked over at Harry, an unreadable emotion in his eyes. "But I didn't get to see you."

"So tell me now."

Severus shook his head and looked back over to the window. "Not yet, not for a while."

"Why."

"I don't think you're ready, after what's happened."

"Well, try me." Harry hoped he sounded sincere.

"You'll remember." His words held such weight, as though he didn't believe them himself. As though it hurt to say it. Harry had the sudden realisation that maybe he was on the same page, that maybe he could have been right. All that evidence that had piled up against him was brought suddenly to light, how could he have been mistaken, with all those shared glances and little touches, he could hear Hermione's voice echoing in his ear, 'you do everything together.'

"Maybe I remembered already." He said, his words low and full of meaning.

Severus looked over at him, regarding Harry with a cool air. "You've remembered more."

"No." Harry said quietly, "But,…I've…realised things."

He knew as soon as he'd said it that it was wrong, he'd made a mistake. He got up from the chair and made his way over to the window, enjoying the breeze coming in through the gap.

"What do you mean?" Harry didn't answer, just stood at the window, squinting against the sun. "Harry?"

"You know what, I don't even know what I mean." He leaned on his fists on the windowsill, "I've spent so long trying to figure out what's in my head, but I don't want to say anything in case I've got it all wrong." He looked over at the bed, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have even said anything, you've only just woken up, you should be resting."

"Harry." It was hard to lower you're voice when you've just had your lungs burnt, Harry knew, but Severus pulled it off with ease. "I've been asleep for days, I feel quite rested."

There was silence

Harry looked away, over the city scape. He took a sigh and shook his head. "You lied to me." He said lowly, tinged with confusion.

Severus looked at him in shock, he'd lied to him? Where had he gotten that from, he'd never dreamed of lying to Harry. "No." he denied him.

"You told me we were friends." Harry continued.

"We are!" Severus tried to sit, to understand what Harry was saying but the bandages pulled at his skin causing him to swear and hiss in pain. Harry was next to him in a moment, hand on his chest as he persuaded him to lie still.

"See what I mean." He said quietly, "you should be resting. I should go."

"No, Harry. I don't know what you think you know, but we are friends, I promise you. I wouldn't lie to you Harry."

Harry shook his head, eyes filling up as he saw the pain flicker across his face. "Friends don't go into fires for each other Severus." He kept his eyes lowered, tracing the line of a bandage as it ran across collarbone and shoulder. "We're not friends are we Severus?" he looked up at those obsidian eyes that sparked with depths of fear and hope. "We're more than that…aren't we?"

Years of hope and dreams suddenly spread out across the table. And so suddenly.

Severus didn't know what to say, he'd never actually believed that this day could come, or even when it did, it would have been different. When he'd asked to see Harry that day, he'd been ready, bolstered by their encounter. But know, it was a wholly different situation, everything tipped in his favour because Harry had no memory of them.

"I don't know what to do Severus." Harry muttered, and he was crying now, his open eyes clear and innocent, and Severus loved him so much more when he cried, needed him more. He pulled on Harry's wrist so that he sat down on the bed, knees pulled up so that he was leaning over. "I don't know what to do. I don't know you, and it's so hard, and I'm so sorry."

"Shh. It's okay Harry." He lifted his hand, placing it against his face in a gesture he'd wanted to do so many times, and slowly he wiped the tears away. "Don't worry about anything. It's okay, nothing has to happen."

"It's not that. It's just so confusing." He turned into his hand as he dried his tears, "I feel all this and I have nothing to base it on. All I know is that when you were in that fire, I've never been so fucking scared in my life, and then coming here and seeing you like this, knowing it's my fault. But all I know of you is from before. And you have no idea how hard this is. It's like this inner struggle, with one part of my mind saying I should hate you, and the other constantly pulling me to you." He looked up through his tears. "What do I do?...what do we do?"

Severus was silent, what could he tell him, he knew the situation was serious but all he could think of was how close he was, how a small tug would bring his lips to his. But he couldn't do that to Harry, when he was so desperate and confused. "I can't tell you Harry, I can't tell you what to do. Only you can decide that. You need to think about what you really want, what you need. Don't think about me." He stroked his cheek, his own held in Harry's palm.

"I don't want you to hate me." Harry whispered, his fingers running into long hair.

"I couldn't hate you Harry." Severus replied vehemently.

"I just think I need some time." And that one sentence broke them both, brought fresh agony to their hearts. Severus nodded, unable to do anything but except and try to ignore the ache in his chest that had nothing to do with smoke and fire. "I'm so sorry." Harry whispered.

"Don't be." He soothed his hand over Harry's hair, doing nothing to tame it, holding him as he finally came to rest against his chest, the pain was unbearable but he didn't care. He had something now, however fragile it may be, and it seemed that the scale could tip in either direction, but whatever the decision, he could take it. He'd waited this long. He could wait a little longer.

Harry calmed after a while, but he didn't move, seemingly content to listen to his heart beating while he let his tears dry. Eventually the thought of the impending visit of the headmaster prompted him to rise, an odd flat feeling inside him. "I should go." He said miserably, "I don't think I can take Albus right now." Severus smiled sadly at him. "But I will see you soon. Okay?" he let his hand trail down his face, their fingers lacing for the shortest time.

"I'll see you soon." He whispered again, his voice unable to do anything else for fear of breaking. Severus nodded and watched him as he stood to leave, waiting hesitantly at the door while he looked back, with such a sorry look on his face. And finally he left, the distance growing between them as he marched down the corridor manifesting itself as a hideous ache that lodged itself within their chests. Harry moved expertly through the corridor, unseeing as he started to run, his eyes threatening to fill again. He reached the lift and slammed his hand into the panel. The doors slid shut with a quiet sound and he found himself alone.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry sat alone on the windowsill, his head tipped back against the wall as he stared listlessly out. It was another beautiful day in the capital, the children from nearby houses running up and down the street, kicking their footballs into cars and swearing at each other loudly. Harry nursed the cup of tea he held in his hand. He hadn't really wanted to drink it, but he'd had to do something to keep himself busy. He'd tidied the entire house, even hoovered and dusted the place, really working up a sweat. He'd found a mobile phone, which had four missed calls and about thirteen messages. Harry had spent a while figuring out how to use it just to be informed by a lot of pubs and clubs that they were having special happy hours and promotional nights.

He'd sat on his bed for a good hour or so, watching the girl in the garden opposite sunning herself on a bright pink towel and getting pestered by her little brother. He should have been out, doing something, relearning London and all his favourite places. But he just couldn't work up the energy. He knew that wherever he went, whatever he did, there would always be that twist of guilt in his stomach, would always see behind closed eyes the brief look of hurt he'd caused.

Harry put down his tea, it was nearly cold now anyway, and scrubbed his face. What had he done? He hadn't meant to walk away, something had made him stop, pulled him away when really he wanted to stay, to kiss him, to push his fingers into that long hair and just feel. But he knew, deep down, that he couldn't. He didn't know him and it would be unfair to both of them to start anything now, not when the balance was uneven, even though he knew that Severus would be good for him, he'd been told a thousand times what great friends they were, and his display of compassion and understanding at the hospital only made Harry feel like much more of a bastard.

Why couldn't he remember?

He felt fine, he felt healthy and alive and angry. Why now, why just in time to mess everything up? To completely rearrange his life, was this just another test? What did they want from him, blood? Well he'd given that!

He watched the postman approach from down the street, whistling 'Give a little respect' and pissing Harry off because now he knew he'd have that in his head for the rest of the day now. He climbed over the wall between Harry's neighbour and his house rather than climbing down the stairs and back up, shoving a wad of paper through his letterbox before resuming across the narrow ledge beside Harry's window, completely oblivious to him sitting there, climbed over the wall and lost his footing on the other side.

Harry slid off the windowsill and went out into the hall to collect his mail which was mostly junk, a free newspaper that consisted mainly of ads trying to sell old tables with three legs, and a bank statement. He chucked them all into the bin, keeping hold of the statement and ripping it open, whistling lowly at the figure at the bottom. Hogwarts paid well then. Well this just opened up new opportunities for him, he thought as he picked up his wallet, flipping through the contents to find his debit card and a moderate sum of cash. Shopping would sure as hell provide a worthy distraction. He slipped the wallet into his back pocket and picked up his keys, he headed for the door, then turned and went back to pick up the phone which he'd left charging on the mantle.

Skipping down the steps he was unsure about his direction, not where he was going, but his thoughts. Try as he might he couldn't get into the frame of mind that he should just carry on. A few people had told him that he should just try to take things as they come, but that wasn't like him, couldn't comprehend the thought of sitting around waiting for things to happen, he needed to be out there doing something. He and Hermione had never really gotten round to doing that research, but it wasn't exactly Harry's area of expertise. But it was a start at least, a thought that gave him drive. He would find out more about what had happened to him, find out what damage had been done, and magic or no magic, he would find out a way to fix it, his pride would not allow him to think of anything else but success. And when he was finished, when he'd remembered the first time his heart had stopped at the sight of him, then he would be able to go to him, without any doubt in his heart. And things would be perfect and how they were meant to be, because that's how stories like his ended, didn't they?

Feeling much lighter and with purpose in his step, Harry practically jumped the stairs down to the train, narrowly missing get trapped by the doors, he turned and held onto the over head bar, smiling to himself in the packed train, he started to sing quietly. "I tried to discover…..a little something to make me sweeter," a girl looked up and grinned at him, if he was going to have this in his head all day, he was damn sure he was going to take as many people down with him. "Oh baby refrain….from breaking my heart."

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

True to his Albus' word, the Hogwarts library was unduly full for this time of year. A small knot of extremely bearded wizards sat off to one corner conversing in a language Harry had never heard of before, whilst several others sat at desks piled high with books from the restricted section, some smoking, others bound shut with a belt.

Harry continued to look around him as he perused the shelves on magical maladies, he already had a couple of worn tomes under his arm and his other hand drifted over the spines of others as he slowly paced the shelf. Hogwarts library, Harry assumed, must be one of the biggest collection of magical books in England, he could only imagine what the university library was like.

Huffing a little, he dragged a particularly fat book down from its shelf, landing heavily on top of the others in Harry's arms. It would make a good start. He used the table at the end of the isle, neatly tucked between the shelves with a window looking out over the highlands, unslinging his bag from over his shoulder he pulled out a notebook, one he'd bought earlier for this specific reason, and several pens. He heaved a sigh and sat down, feeling very intellectual at having to do some proper, important research.

The feeling faded though after a while, as he had to sit reading through the pages of the dusty tome, its hand written script nearly illegible with age and terrible handwriting skills. But he'd garnered one or two mildly valuable pieces of information. He'd been at it for three hours, and he'd only gotten through two chapters. Despondently he checked the contents page, eyes running down the list of the one hundred and seventy three he still had left to go. He skipped a couple as they weren't relevant, and got stuck back into it, wondering just how long it would take, and pondering the mental state of one Hermione Granger. How had she done it all those years?

It was a stark reminder at how bad at this he was, the idea of doing research was exciting and he could almost pretend he was Indiana Jones or someone, making a huge discovery. But once he got down to it, it was just plain boring. He leaned idly back in his chair, craning his neck round to see anyone, but the aisle was narrow and provided only a view of the shelves. He let the chair fall back with a thud and a huff, rapping his pencil against his paper. No more fidgeting, he told himself angrily and looked back at the book, turning the pages slowly as he scanned them, eyes catching on words that could have relevance.

He was just about ready to close the book and start on another when something caught his eye. It was a short paragraph detailing the case study of a man, a muggle, 'who hath fallen from a churches spire in the actions of mending it, from which he hath gained terrible injuries to the head and was bedridden for many months. On the day on which he did awaken it became clear that his mind had been addled in the fall.' Harry read on, matching all the man's symptoms to his own and carrying on to find out that a wizard, Mordred Califur, had taken the man on as research, as he was already known in the medical research circle as quite the miracle worker. He worked with the man for many months, spilling over into the years until the time came when all his research would come evident. He set to making a potion designed to access and repair damaged neural pathways, a procedure still not deigned safe by St Mungo's today, and quite frankly revolutionary for their time. But for some reason the potion didn't work, the man died, and before Califur had the chance to find out why he was driven from the country in a nation wide man hunt and was never heard of again.

Harry stared down at the book, there, in that one paragraph, his hope lay shattered. One man, hundreds of years ago had come close, after years of trying. And Harry knew that there was no other way, Sure, St Mungo's had potions for enhancing the growth and recovery of new pathways after an accident, but repairing damaged ones was something else altogether, even Harry new that. Harry sighed disconsolately and pushed the book away, leaning back in his chair. Carelessly he scribbled the name 'Mordred Califur' into his notebook, underlining it beneath all the other notes he'd taken. The man may have failed, but there could still be writings on his research somewhere. After that he threw his pen in the direction of his bag and stood up, stretching his arms over his head and pulling a face, he did a half yawn and rubbed his hands across his neck.

He made his mind up to see if he could make it down to the kitchens and maybe pick up a glass of something to cool his dry throat, which was one problem with libraries, all that warm dry air. He wondered out into the corridor, smelling the slight residue of smoke in the air. The castle had undergone extensive restoration work, hundreds of tapestries and pictures had had to be cleaned by specialists, even now men were busy, scurrying like ants among the corridors trying to clean up and repair the damage that had been done. Harry headed down the main staircase, holding on to the final spindle and spinning round off the bottom step; he took a left and headed to the kitchens. Harry wondered whether the other guests in the castle were catered for, wondered if house elves popped up from time to time or they were shown the location of the kitchens themselves. Shortly he found the picture and tickled the pear gaining himself entry.

Instead of the usual hustle and bustle that Harry would normally walk into, their was a modest hum of activity, only a few house elves meandered around the kitchen, carrying heavy pots containing soups and dumplings or preparing tea sets. A couple turned to look at him and placed their burdens on the tables to hurry over to him, bowing low and taking his order. Harry asked whether he could have any of the soup, receiving an excited squeak from the elf that had made it. He sat down at the table as the clambered around him, setting a place with knife and spoon, a deep bowl was laid before him, full with steaming soup and a plate with crusty roll and butter placed by his elbow. Harry thanked them and received little blushes in return as they set about their business again.

Harry thought as he sat, stirring the thick soup until it cooled enough for him to eat.

What was his next juncture? First, he would finish reading the texts, a miserable thought, he knew. Then he would contact Hermione tonight to find out if there were any relevant texts in her library, maybe asking nicely if she could look over them for him. He knew she would scowl at him but do it anyway. Then, when he'd exhausted his methods, he would look into this Mordred Califur. There must be writing on his research somewhere, although the phrase, 'driven from the country', rang in his ears as he thought this. He took a mouthful of soup and closed his eyes. Real food, all he'd had over the last few days were things he'd found in his freezer, mass produced and bad for you.

"Oh hello Harry."

Harry swallowed the soup too quickly in an effort to stop choking but it had the reverse effect and he started coughing madly.

"Ooo, didn't mean to startle you, just down for a cup of tea." Albus said, taking a seat next to him and patting Harry on the back as he regained his composure.

"No, no. my fault." Harry muttered, clearing his throat again "Should start eating with my eyes open." He put his spoon down and picked up the glass of water that a house elf had brought for him.

"Mmm, useful." The headmaster remarked dryly. Harry grinned at him.

"So what brings you to these hallowed halls?" Albus said theatrically, making a real show of putting milk and sugar into his tea.

"Research." Harry said, "I hate sitting around, so I thought I could at least look into this, St Mungo's seem to have serious reservations into research regarding this. As a top establishment you would think they have someone working on it."

Albus nodded thoughtfully, "Well, you have to remember Harry, that it's a very complicated area, and few are willing to do research as it often requires volunteers. The scope for accidents is wide. They do have people working on these things, just not on definite cures. Remember Harry, that not even we have a cure for cancer, just expert means of dealing with it."

Harry conceded, daring to have another spoonful of soup.

"So…I was talking to Severus yesterday." Harry choked again, putting his spoon down, resigned to not being able to eat.

"Mm hmm?" Harry acknowledged, but refused to say anything until the headmaster elaborated.

"He told me what happened." Albus said softly, the kitchen seemed suddenly hot around Harry, who remained silent.

"I have to confess," Albus carried on, "That I had knowledge of his feeling for you for some time, but only an incline of yours."

This surprised Harry, Dumbledore admitting to not knowing something!

"I have to say, that I'm very sorry for the situation you have found yourself in." Harry looked up at him then and sent a questioning frown his way. "Well, it all sounds very confusing from what Severus told me." Harry felt his cheeks redden and he looked back at the desk. "To find yourself attracted to someone whom you don't know."

There was a heavy silence in which Harry tried to eat his soup again and found himself unable to do so, so he ended up playing with it, lifting the spoon up and turning it over so that it splashed back into the bowl.

"What will you do?" Albus asked quietly.

Harry let go of the spoon, letting it fall and clatter in the bowl as he rubbed his face with his hands. "I don't know." He confessed, "I know I can't control what I feel, you can no longer ask someone to change their emotions than you can ask them to change the stars." His arms fell either side of his bowl and Harry stared down at it with blurry eyes. "I need to remember. I need to know him. But I don't think there's any way of getting my memories back, and it would take years to catch up on what I've missed."

Harry waved to a house elf who trotted over and took the bowl from Harry, asking if there were anything else he would like, Harry shook his head.

"I just…I need time, I need to figure this out, to make sense of everything. I need to help myself. But!" Harry said sharply, seeing the way the headmaster opened his mouth to say his piece. "I'm not going to isolate myself, I need help of that I'm sure and as far as I know, Severus is excellent at research and I'm sure he'll help."

Harry's confession seemed to appease him.

Harry played with his hands, picking at the nails. "I need him Albus, no matter where I turn or what I do, I still need him. In some way."

"You just remember that Harry." Dumbledore said softly, "We're all here to help."

"I know," Harry replied. They sat in silence for a long time, disturbed only by the soft clink as the headmaster rested his cup in the saucer. They weren't bothered by the house elves again, not even to clean away the tea set after the headmaster had quietly left the table with a soft farewell.

"Albus." The headmaster was nearly at the door when Harry called to him, he stopped and turned slowly, looking at the young man still sat at the table.

Harry looked up at him. "Tell me about him."

Albus smiled softly and walked back to his seat.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

It was about ten when Hermione finally made it round. Harry had called her earlier from Albus' office and requested her services. She'd said she'd look straight into it, remarking on why she hadn't thought of it sooner as they held all the medical text books for doctors and nurses in training. She'd also said she'd be around straight away. Which was also the reason he'd been lolling around on the couch for the last three hours watching Coronation Street and Emmerdale, wondering where the hell she was and should he call her at home in case something had happened.

But she was here now, arms laden with books and bags full. "Sorry I'm late." She beamed at him as she walked past him and into the living room leaving Harry a little flustered in her wake. He followed her through in time to see her drop half a rainforest onto his couch.

"Oh, thank God, those were really heavy." She shook her arms out and pushed her hair back whilst taking off her coat. "So," She started brightly, "What did you come up with today."

Harry was a little stunned at the immediate start. "Umm," he stuttered, looking around the room trying to find his bag where he'd left his notebook. "Not much to be honest, there was only so much at the school library, most of those books are hundreds of years old. It's probably the only reason Albus keeps them." He flipped through the book, "I got a few good notes though, not sure how helpful they may be." He handed it over when she motioned to him, muttering 'let me see'.

"Tea?" he asked and she nodded. He meandered into the kitchen as she settled herself down on the couch occasionally saying things like 'I thought so' and 'Good idea'. Harry enjoyed having her round, it felt a lot like old times and the sudden crushing feeling of having to sort all this out alone had lifted. If there was one thing you could say about Hermione, it was her determination. She would never stop until she found a solution.

When he made it back through, two cups of tea in his hands, she was half hidden behind one of the medical text books with a couple left open on the table.

"I was looking at your notes." She said in way of explanation, a quiet thank you on her lips as Harry handed her the mug. "This name, I've heard before." She said, tapping the notebook where he'd scrawled Califur's name. Harry raised his eyebrows speculatively and took a sip of his tea.

"Yes, he's come up a couple of times in research." She flipped a few pages into the text book, cross referencing the index; finally she smiled and hefted the book round for Harry to look. He took a seat on the sofa and dragged the book into his lap, looking where Hermione's finger was pointing.

"I assume you found something along the lines of this at Hogwarts?" she asked him. Harry nodded, what she'd found was basically a dense, fact ridden version of the basics he read earlier.

They sat in quiet reflection as Harry read through the chapter and Hermione occasionally peered over his shoulder when he got a little excited.

This was it, their main lead. It detailed the work he was doing, how he was doing it and even listed a couple of references at the end for those who wished to do further reading. Harry was grinning from ear to ear when he'd finished and looked expectantly at Hermione.

"Oh my God." He said, pointing to the text he'd just read. "This has everything."

"It looks like it," Hermione said, but she wore a slight frown. "But remember Harry, that its all conjuncture, none of his work was ever proven to work, and the research was never taken up by another person, not even the guild thought it was worth the effort." She warned.

"So." He argued, "That doesn't mean it never worked, it was only one case and they chased him out the country before anything could be proved or disproved."

"But who are you going to get to do this Harry? It's dangerous research." Hermione backed.

"But most of it's been done for us, all we need to do is get our hands on his journals, it'll have everything in there." Harry exclaimed.

"It's ministry protected research Harry," Hermione said, sitting forward to show Harry the small print beneath the references. "It's being held by the Guild for safety, it's not something anyone can get at. You have to have all sorts of research grants and papers before you'll be able to read a word of it."

"Well, what about Severus?" Harry asked.

"What about him?"

"He's a member of the guild isn't he?"

Hermione looked at the carpet, a hard look on her face, "Only just, he only got his position back last year."

Harry frowned, "Why? What happened?"

Hermione looked at him in a sort of shocked confusion, as though she couldn't understand why he'd just said what he did. "The war happened Harry, Everyone found out about him being a death eater, the scandal was huge, it was in every paper."

"Well….so?" Harry sputtered, he'd known that since his fourth year but he'd known the reasons behind it.

"Harry, people weren't so trusting back then. Everyone had just been betrayed by the ministry, they felt that with more warning people would have had a better chance. There were people left right and centre being caught and making out they were under foreign influences." Hermione explained, "There was a time when all the attacks were potion based, some really nasty stuff was released, right at the same time someone leaked information to the press."

"Yeah, but Albus would have explained that!" Harry said.

"Of course he did, but do you think many people believed him, even after the war and the trials, he remained a death eater to so many people. There was a time when Severus couldn't even leave the castle, people were actually asking for him to stand trial and execution." She finished vehemently, as though the injustice still disgusted her to this day.

"Christ." Harry whispered. "I thought I had it hard." He stared down at the book. He remembered having such a hard time at school trying to convince people that he wasn't some sort of hero, couldn't be nice all the time, that was bad enough. But how do you convince people you're good when all you have to show for your actions was death and defilement. Who would believe you?

Harry had the sudden undeniable need to see him, he wanted to say something to him, to apologise for all the years when he'd been a biased idiot because all he'd judged the man on was the front he put forward. It must have been such a hard life to live, in constant shadows and clouds of hate.

"Sometimes…" Harry muttered quietly, "I'm glad I can't remember."

Hermione looked at him with something akin to sympathy in her eyes. "Me too Harry." She whispered, "Sometimes I wondered how you could still be sane after everything you'd been through." She smiled softly to herself, her only defence against the wave of horror that still rose within her when her thoughts strayed too far back.

Silence permeated his living room as Hermione curled up on the couch, mug cradled in her hand as she stared out of the window, her eyes unseeing, looking inward. Harry quietly folded down the corner of the page and shut the book, leaning back in the chair as he let the silence pass over him.

He was suddenly struck with a thought. What was he doing this for? What did he need from this. He'd already filled in the gaps, had countless people to question to his hearts content. Did he really want to go back and stir up the past, to gain fresh evidence, to add fuel to sleepless nights and flashbacks?

"Jesus." He exclaimed about ten minutes later, "We are such a pair of morose bastards!" he looked over at Hermione who was looking blankly at him before her face cracked into a wide grin and she giggled a bit.

"Yeah," she agreed, nodding her head and placing her now empty mug on the table. "So." She dusted her hands in a meaningful way, "Where to from here?" she looked at Harry seriously.

Harry stared down at the book in his hands, knowing that no matter how many other books he looked at, none would provide such an option as this. "I think I'm going to talk to Severus as soon as he gets out of hospital." Harry said, gravity in his voice.

"If you think this is the best option?" Hermione said, her tone sounding like she was trying to talk him out of it.

"It is." Harry said, looking up at her, "I know it is, I can feel it."

Hermione frowned at him, knowing her dislike of divination in any shape or form Harry tipped his head and shrugged. "And I'll be with Severus, what can go wrong?"

Hermione looked as though she was about to say that everything could go wrong but the hope on Harry's face belayed her from doing so.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

"So how is he?" Harry asked the headmaster a couple of days later when the man came to see him.

"Oh fine, he always is." Albus replied, tossing some bread to the ducks as they swarmed around him. Harry considered the man out of the corner of his eye, wondering what kind of spells the man had cast to keep people from staring at his odd appearance.

"Hmmm." Harry nodded his approval "I wanted to ask him a favour, but I wasn't sure if he'd be up to it." Harry told the other man.

Albus looked at him. "Well, I was going to stop by his after I'd seen you, I can take you with me if you want?"

"Oh, no." Harry said quickly, "I wouldn't want to bother him while he's resting."

Albus laughed quietly, "This is Severus, I doubt he's resting." He sounded like he knew what he was talking about. He turned back to the ducks. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind the visit, contrary to what he'll tell you he does get lonely sometimes."

Harry stared at the ducks clambering by his feet, moving his foot a little so that one of them could get to a piece of bread that was too close to his shoe. "Maybe." He muttered. He really did need to talk to him, anxious to get started on something so important. But the memories of the other day kept swimming back. He wasn't even sure how he would act around him, both knowing what they know.

"You said you needed to get to know him better." Albus chipped in.

"I know." Harry agreed. "I just feel…awkward."

"Well of course you will." Albus said gently, "Anyone would after a conversation like that. Best thing you can do is just carry on as normal. If you allow any embarrassment to dominate any feelings you have for him, then you're just waiting for it to all fall apart." He looked at Harry, "Just go and see him, ask him for his help, it doesn't need to be anything more than that."

Harry nodded, the headmaster's words had done nothing the ease the feeling of eels in his stomach.

"We'll go when the bread's run out." The headmaster told him cheerfully, holding up the half empty bag of bread that Harry had given him earlier.

Harry nodded, trying not to roll his eyes as Albus went back to his talking and feeding, the entire flock clamouring for his attention.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

They arrived shortly after two, Harry's head reeling from the apparition as they made their way up the drive. They got to the door and Albus let himself in. Harry had the impression that there was probably a lot of spells locking the door, but there wasn't much you could do to keep the headmaster out.

"Severus!" the old man shouted, his voice very loud in the open hallway. Snape's house was large, but not overly so. He lived in a small hamlet not far from a busy town, in an area that was dominated by wealthy, quiet types so he fit in perfectly. Harry looked around a little, at the large windows that let in an awful lot of light, and the cream décor that was so very unlike Severus. It seemed that the house was an exact opposite of the man's personality. "Severus?" Albus called again.

"What?" came the exasperated cry from down the hall. Harry got the impression that they had probably dragged the man away from something important. Albus winked at him cheekily.

"We've just come to see how you are?" he called, his shout pointless as Severus had just rounded the corner, wiping his hands on a small towel, his eyes shooting straight to Harry who gave him a brief smile and hefted the books he'd brought higher into his arms.

"I'm fine." He spoke to Albus, but his eyes were still on Harry.

"Good." The headmaster enthused, "Because Harry had a favour to ask."

For a brief moment the other man's gaze flickered to the headmaster and then back again. Harry felt himself begin to flush under the stare and looked down at the books he was holding.

"Yeah, umm." He started lamely, trying to put his words in order, "Hermione and I did some research, and we've…I mean I, well, we kind of came up with a plan." He looked up at Severus, "But we're going to need your help…if that's okay."

Severus seemed to look at him for the longest time, an odd look in his eye as he assessed Harry. "Of course." He said, as though he couldn't see the reason Harry should bother to ask. "What kind of help do you need?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, his books slipping slightly in his arms but the headmaster cut him off. "Is it okay if I take a wonder around you garden Severus, there's a couple things I wouldn't mind getting a hand on, for my own little experiments." He gave a theatrical wink at Severus who just looked at him and made a 'do what you want' kind of gesture. Albus looked far too happy with himself and doubled back to a side door which he disappeared through, humming.

"Not entirely subtle is he?" Severus remarked dryly as soon as he had left, he snapped the towel he was holding over his shoulder and took a couple of books from the pile Harry was holding.

"Not really." Harry agreed, grateful to be spared the weight and blushing madly at the blunt statement.

Severus looked the title of the books he was holding and shifted a glance at Harry. "We're going to need the lab for this one aren't we?" he questioned him.

Harry nodded frankly, "Yes, yes we are."

He followed when Severus jerked his head back in the direction that he'd come from, through a set of doors and across a large airy room with a piano at one end. It looked like an old ballroom to Harry and he found himself wondering what kind of life Severus lived here in these empty rooms. They reached a short corridor and he was shown in the first door which lead through to a modest sized room that looked uncannily like a science laboratory.

Harry hadn't really known what to expect. When he thought of potions he could always remember those cold, dark halls and classrooms from school. Had always associated them with that. But this was light, and clean and bright. All the equipment that stood on the sides looked new and modern instead of the old cauldrons they'd had. Harry took it all in, looking around himself in obvious wonderment.

"Shall I take those?" Severus offered, startling Harry. He took the books from him and put them down on a central table that was already piled at one end with various books and scrolls stacked neatly on a rack. Harry thanked him and took a step back wiping his hands as Severus picked them up one by one and looked through them.

Harry rubbed his hands together. Albus had told him it would be fine as soon as he was here, but it wasn't, there was something still wriggling about his stomach. He took a deeper breath, careful not to draw attention as he watched the other man, took in every nuance as his hands skated over the yellowing pages. He watched the way that the sun from the side windows threw his face into reflection, it's warmth flowing over pale skin and black hair in a path Harry's fingers itched to follow.

It was a stupid idea, he realised, only knowing it now. How was he supposed to work with this man when he felt funny just watching him read. It wasn't going to work.

"Did Hermione write this up?" Harry looked at the sheet of paper that Severus was holding that outlined their plan and methods.

"Yes." Harry replied quietly.

"I thought so." Harry frowned, "She's written me a note at the bottom asking me to get you to see sense." He passed it over to Harry when indignation set across his face. Sure enough, she had scribbled a quick note at the bottom of the page. Harry tutted and threw the paper back on the table.

"She doesn't think I should do it." Harry scowled at the letter.

"I'm not surprised." Severus said. He piled up the books one on top of each other and looked at Harry gravely. "Harry, this is very dangerous." He said darkly.

"I know." Harry said softly, "But it looks like my only option."

Severus sighed then, looking away. "There are other options Harry, what you were taking before…"

"Wasn't working!" Harry said loudly. Severus looked up. "It was doing nothing but making me dizzy and giving me headaches."

"But you remembered." Severus countered.

"Probably by chance." Harry argued back. "There was no correlation to those memories and me taking that potion."

"Then we can research that." Severus put in smoothly, "But this…" he put his hands on the books, "This Harry is suicide. I know this man's work, I don't think you know what consequences there would be if it went wrong."

"If!" Harry exclaimed, "If it went wrong!"

"Stop clutching at the positive Harry." Severus came back, his voice tired and said in such a way that Harry recognized the familiar tone the man used, as though he'd said this in many arguments before. Harry closed his mouth, feeling a little out of the loop. He looked away.

"This is what I want to do." He said quietly. "Are you going to help me?" his voice sounded far too hard but he couldn't help the way it came out. He noticed Severus staring at him out of the corner if his eye.

"I can't." he replied softly.

Harry whipped his head round, eyes full of question.

"It's too dangerous Harry, were something to go wrong, then any number of things could happen. And I'm not happy taking those risks."

Harry looked him over and nodded, disappointment making his heart sink. "Okay." He muttered, stepping forward and gathering the load of books into his arm, "I'm sorry I bothered you."

"Harry, where are you going?" Severus put a hand on his arm.

"To find Albus, I need him to apparate me home." Harry said simply.

"Harry, look, don't go." He pulled a little on Harry's arm, "We can look into other options."

"I've looked!" Harry came back, "And Hermione, she spent hours looking at the medical texts at this is the only viable option we have open to us."

"But…"

"Look." Harry stopped at the entrance to the ballroom. "This is what I'm going to do." He looked up at Severus whose face was dark in the doorway, "I had thought that maybe you would help me." Harry couldn't help the disappointment permeating his voice and he hated himself for sounding like a child.

"I do want to help you Harry." Severus replied strongly, "But this vein of research is dead, it died years ago and for good reason."

"But you could do it." Harry breathed, "I trust you."

Severus stood straight, his gaze wondering off around the room while his mind thought of something to say, racing as it was, at a thousand thoughts a second. He looked down at Harry.

"I don't want to be the one responsible for losing you." He said quietly.

Harry shook his head. "I want you to be the one responsible for saving me." He looked hopefully. "And besides," He added softly, "We need you." He caught the frown, "You're a member of the guild, only you can get us Califurs work." He explained.

Severus folded his arms. "Thought all this out have you?" he asked darkly.

"Well yes!" Harry said, "I thought you would help, it was an obvious solution." He pulled the books up, "I had kind of hoped you would, considering…" Harry's stomach lurched as soon as he'd said it, as he watched that familiar flicker of hurt pass across his face, his eyes falling to the floor. Harry had sworn to himself he wouldn't use that card.

"It's especially 'considering' that I don't want to." He looked up at Harry with a sadness in his eyes. "I'm not sure I would feel comfortable holding your life in my hands with that. My judgement is clouded."

"But I trust you." Harry said with vehemence, "Why else would I come to you, I've come to the best, who I know would hold my interests at heart." He felt himself blush. "I came to you because I want somebody who wouldn't see me as a client, or a patient, I came to you because you're my friend." Harry's voice cracked a little and he sucked in a deep breath, fixing Severus with his own stare. "I came to you because I. need. you."

And suddenly it was about much more that the potion and the research. It was suddenly about what they had left behind in a warm, stuffy hospital bedroom no more than a week ago. They looked at each other with different strings of emotion running through their minds.

But Severus could recognize this for what it was. The first step, if he backed out on Harry now, then it could rip apart any sort of delicate balance they may have reached, if he walked away, he could lose Harry. Resigned, he broke their silence with a pained sigh and stepped forward, taking the books from Harry.

"Thank you." Harry whispered to his back as he turned towards the lab.

Severus looked back over his shoulder, at the way Harry rubbed at his eyes beneath his hair. "Don't thank me yet."


	12. Chapter 12

"I feel like shit, Mione." Harry said, leaning over the back of his chair and scrubbing his face with his hands. Hermione peered over the top of her book and raised an eyebrow at him when he righted himself.

"He's only doing this because I fucked up." He collapsed onto the table. "I shouldn't have said anything." He said morosely.

"I thought you wanted him to help you?" Hermione asked him sharply.

"I do, but not for those reasons, Christ, I practically blackmailed him into it." He let his body go lax, slumping in the chair in the most ungraceful position imaginable.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Hermione asked him, staring at him pointedly.

"Like you wouldn't imagine." Harry said shortly, but made no move to sit up, "I'm the worst person in the world aren't I?" he questioned the ceiling airily.

"No you're not." Hermione said, standing up and pushing Harry forward so that he was right in his chair. "You made a mistake," Harry looked up at her dolefully, "Fix it." She walked into the kitchen with her mug. When she came back out, Harry hadn't moved, was still staring at a coffee ring on the table.

"Look," she said, picking up her coat and pulling it on, "I have to go home, but I'll come round tomorrow after work, and we'll carry on with this then."

Harry looked over at her and shook his head, "Ah, don't worry, I'm taking up all your time as it is, Niall must be getting ticked off." He ran a hand though his hair.

"Oh, don't worry about him, he'll be watching the match down the pub tomorrow so I'll be free anyway, besides, I won't stay long, you need to take a break as well." She fastened a couple of button on the front and tied her hair up.

"Okay." Harry conceded, she smiled at him and kissed the top of his head as she made her way to the door, Harry pretended to grimace and waved her away but inside he was thankful for the way she mothered him sometimes.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She called back just before the door shut behind her.

The house seemed suddenly devoid of life without her there, so quiet. Harry stood from where he sat at the table and took his mug into the kitchen where he washed it and sat it next to Hermione's on the draining board.

Harry was caught. He needed to do this, to get his life back, but he felt terrible at the way he'd gone about it. Why had he said that? He knew Severus didn't want to do it, to inflict him any harm. Hell, he should have listened to him from the start, after all, his opinion mattered more when it came to potions. What did Harry know!

He shook his head, first thing tomorrow when Hermione came round, he would ask her to apparate him over there so he could tell him. To sort this whole sorry mess out, he didn't want Severus making a decision based on whether or not he felt Harry would ever see him again.

He dried his hands on a cloth and went to the front door, turning the key in the lock. He knocked off the downstairs light and climbed the stairs to his room where he drew his t-shirt over his head and cast it in the direction of the washing basket. It hit the lamp.

But if he asked someone else to do it, then where would that leave them? The whole point of asking Severus was so that he could spend time with him, to settle the ache in the pit of his stomach when he wasn't around, but without the research, he couldn't do that.

He glared disapprovingly at the mirror, who only glared back. "What do I do." He asked himself quietly. But his reflection held no answers for him, he was on his own. He finished pulling off the rest of his clothes and turned on the shower, waiting for it to warm up before getting in and closing the door. He stood there for some time, hands braced on the wall and head bent so that he had to press his eyes shut to stop the water getting at them.

It was hard, not to imagine that the warm trails winding down his back were not something else, deft fingers skating lightly across his skin. Harry turned his head so that they wound around his neck, what would it be like to be touched by him. He shook his head, scattering his thoughts with the water.

It was too hard.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

Hermione came round just after six thirty, which was good, because the Simpson's had just ended and there was nothing else on to amuse Harry. He'd told her about his plan and his thinking, earning both a disapproving and a sympathetic look but she had promised to take him over after they had finished up writing an appeal to the guild to let them have the journals. Hermione said it would help their case if he signed it personally, to show his approval and willingness of the research. Once it was written, rewritten, then written again, and finally signed they pulled on their coats.

"Are you sure you want to go over, I could just drop this off if you want." Hermione offered.

"No, I'll be fine. Just drop me off at the apparition point and I'll take it up myself."

"Sure you don't want me to come up?"

Harry shook his head, concentrating on the zip of his jacket. "I'll be okay."

"But what if he isn't in?" Hermione asked, wondering how he would get back if he were stranded.

"Then I'll wait." He said, eyes wide at her, "If you don't hear from me in the next two days, come find me." He added sarcastically. She rolled her eyes at him and sighed.

"Well, come on then."

She waited for him to gather his keys and the envelope that the appeal was in before they let themselves out, walking a short distance down the road before they came to a small area of garages that no one used, they ducked out of sight at the far end and apparated.

Right into the middle of a summer rain storm

Hermione screamed and Harry gasped. The torrential rain soaking them in a matter of seconds. Harry struggled to thrust the envelope into his thin jacket before zipping it right to the top and pulling up the hood. He took a look at Hermione who was doing her best to pull her hair out of her face.

"Go back." He called out above the sound of the rain.

"But what if he's not in, you'll get soaked!"

"I'm sure he'll have a porch!" Harry sighed, "Now go back."

"You'll be okay?" She asked him with concern.

"Yes!" he said, exasperated. "Go!"

"Okay," she looked about herself, "I'll see you soon." She gave him a grimace and a wave before she popped out of sight.

Harry sighed, wiping at his face with his sleeve, he looked over towards the house and started to run towards it, wondering why Severus had to have wards a mile from his house.

Hermione was right. He wasn't in, or he couldn't hear the door that Harry had been banging on for the last fifteen minutes. He sighed mutinously and wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to keep warm. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the envelope that was a bit soggy, pushing it halfway into the letter box, he then unzipped his jacket and hung it on the door knocker out of the rain. He figured he had a better chance at staying warm out here if he didn't have a soaking wet jumper on. The air was still warm, but rapidly cooling in the rain, Harry wiped at his eyes again and stepped closer back towards the door, underneath the over hang, his eyes scanning the drive up towards the main road for any sign of the other man.

After shivering for another half an hour, Harry decided to take a chance at looking around the house, maybe Severus was in a place where he couldn't hear the door, maybe he had music on, anything. He left his jacket and the envelope on the porch and set off around the house, peering in windows and hoping to God that none of the neighbours saw him and decided to call the police. He covered all the first floor windows, had looked in the empty stable and had a small fight with a hydrangea, all to no avail. There were no lights on and it was beginning to get dark. Harry looked at his watch, maybe he'd had plans, had gone out to dinner with friends, visiting relatives. Why was he stupid enough to presume that Severus had nothing else to do than wait around for Harry to come by. He hefted himself over a stone wall and threw himself into a rather deep puddle on the other side. Cursing all manner of deities he squelched back to the porch.

Where he found Severus standing calmly beneath an umbrella holding his jacket.

"What!" Harry flustered. Taking hold of his jacket when it was offered to him. "I…err…what!"

"I heard you round the back of the house." Severus said patiently, "No doubt fighting off the hydrangeas," Harry raised his eyebrows at him, "So I thought I should wait, I figured you would be round in a minute."

Harry let out a non committal grunt, shuddering at the onset of trench foot.

"How long have you been waiting?" Severus asked softly, opening the door and ushering Harry inside.

"Nearly an hour." Harry said, trying hard not to sound pissed off.

"I'm sorry," Severus upturned the umbrella and slid it into the stand by the door, "Had I known you were coming, I'd have tried to be back earlier."

"Oh, I just came by on the off chance." Harry said vaguely, pushing the hair back from where it stuck on his forehead. He looked about himself, wiping as much water off himself and shivering until he couldn't help but turn and challenge the stare being aimed at him. "What?"

Severus raised and eyebrow, "You do know you're a wizard, right?" he said slowly, trying hard not to smirk.

"And?" Harry said, feeling exasperated. Severus pulled something from his pocket, a small jet of light issued from it and suddenly Harry was dry.

Harry closed his eyes in mortification and denial. He really was very dense sometimes. He lowered his head and did everything he could to avoid looking at the other man whom he knew was smirking at him. "Thank you." He muttered, still shivering from being cold for too long.

"Come through." Severus said lightly, taking Harry through the entrance hall and off to one of the side doors that led to the sitting room, he took Harry's jacket from him and placed it over the back of the chair where Harry sat down. Despite the summer heat, a small fire burned low in the grate, most likely to keep the temperature even on unsettled days like this. Harry turned towards it, relishing the heat that soaked into his jeans.

"Drink?" Severus asked

"Please." Harry nodded back, "Coffee, if that's alright."

Severus noted the way Harry was sat and hid a smile, nodding, "You want me to Irish it up a bit for you?"

Harry didn't know whether to glare or be grateful, "Yes please." He said sweetly, fully aware of what Severus was smirking at. The other man left, leaving Harry alone by the fire, the rain lashing against the windows still. It all lent to a very tense air, making Harry feel like he was trapped in the path of an oncoming storm. And with that thought, an ear splitting rip of thunder tore the air asunder, startling Harry so bad that he nearly fell from the chair. It was instinct to get up and go to the window, pulling back the soft drape of lace to look out on the grounds being hammered with rain.

Lightning hit the ground not far away, on the other side of the forest and as it did so the lights dimmed.

"Here." Harry jumped again, but took the mug that was being handed to him, the strong vapours melting off the surface doing wonders to warm him. "That was a loud one." Severus remarked, taking a sip and following Harry's line of sight out over the grass.

"Thank you," Harry took a sip from his mug, eyes closing for a brief second, "It's damned close too."

"Hmmm, I saw the lights dim." Severus replied quietly in the darkening bay. Harry eyed him with a questioning frown. "Magical fields and electricity." Severus reminded him.

"Oh, yeah." Harry muttered, thinking that one day he may finally learn that. Slowly he sat down on the padded bench in the window bay, his eyes still on the rain as he sipped his drink. "Look, Severus," he said quietly after some time, when it was clear the other man wouldn't, "I'm sorry about the other day." He kept his eyes firmly on the mug in his hand. "I didn't mean to put you in such an awkward position, you don't have to do this if you don't want. I understand."

Severus said nothing for a while, the silence stretching out between them like a taut string, Harry shifted uncomfortably and dared a glance up at the man still standing. Severus looked calm, the rain on the window creating shadows that ran across his face, twisting and winding over his arms as he casually finished his drink.

"Severus?" Harry said softly, finally wondering whether he'd actually heard him.

"I went to speak to the board members of the guild today." Severus said quietly, rolling the mug in his hands, his gaze still fixed upon the grounds. "They say I can have the research, but I'll need a written research plan, signed by myself, you and a witness. They also require you to come along and undergo a psychological examination." He cast Harry a quick glance, "And for the love of God, don't mention to them anything about any emotion you have for me."

Harry was slightly taken aback. "They're approving the research?" he asked.

"Not quiet yet, as I said, you have to go through the examination. If they believe there to be any sort of negative influence or ulterior motives of either yours or mine, access to the work we need will be rejected." He stepped back from the window and placed his cup on a small table, dropping himself into the chair, he fixed Harry with a level stare.

"You don't have to do this." Harry said quietly, noting just how tired and defeated he looked.

Severus said nothing, just turned his head to look at the fire.

"Severus?" no response, "Severus, just tell me, just say you don't want to do this and I'll find someone else."

"Who will you find?" Severus questioned quietly, the lights flickering and dimming as another bolt of lightning scorched the air.

"I don't know." Harry confessed. He stared at Severus, "You don't want to do it, do you?" he asked.

Severus brought his hand up to his face, rubbing at his eyes. "It's not that I don't want to do it. It's that I don't trust anybody else to."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but…"

"It's not about sentiment Harry," Severus sounded slightly frustrated, "In the wrong hands, this research could kill you, Christ; in my hands it could kill you." He let his hand fall to the arm rest, he turned and looked Harry in the eye, "Do you really think I could stand aside and let someone else take your life in their hands."

Harry let his gaze fall, a heavy feeling in his chest, guilt roiling in his stomach. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "All of this is my fault, I just want to be whole again."

Thunder rolled over head, the storm right above them now, so that when the lighting struck just a couple of seconds later the entire house was plunged into darkness, a couple of lights flickering vainly to keep themselves alight. The last of the noise melting into the darkened air.

"You will be." Severus said quietly, looking about the place and getting out of his chair. "If you'll excuse me for a moment." He said walking towards the door.

Harry watched him leave then turned his attention back to the window. In a way he was glad that Severus was adamant on being the one to undertake the research, because Harry really had no idea who he could have gone to. But the guilt was beginning to make him feel sick, moreover was the thought of this psychological examination. One wrong answer and it would be over anyway.

Severus returned a couple of minutes later, a large church candle in one hand and a box in the other. Harry watched as he opened it, more candles spilling out, lighting each one and placing them around the room. Harry would have asked why he didn't just relight the lights but finally his brain kicked into gear and for once and for all he remembered that magic and electricity didn't mix. He felt himself smile a little.

After that last candle was lit, Severus motioned him over to the table where Harry sat and eyed a large stack of books suspiciously. "Since you are here," Severus said, "We may as well get started on the plan." He smirked ever so slightly at Harry's groan of disapproval.

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"Come in Mr Potter."

Harry seated himself in the stiff wooden chair facing the desk where three of the board members were sat. There were a few minutes of silence as the three of them looked through their notes, occasionally glancing up at Harry with mixed feeling. Harry cleared his throat quietly and shifted, daring to smile slightly at the woman who had just shot a look at him.

"Mr Potter." She said sharply, her eyes still scanning the pages in front of her, "This is a very dangerous thread of action." She looked up at him, her thin glasses perched carefully on the end of her nose. "Why do you wish to undergo this potentially life threatening procedure?"

Harry was a little shocked at the manner of her interrogation, he'd never quite thought of it like that. "I wish to regain my memories." He said simply. "And I can find no other way of doing so."

There was a succession of scribbling in notebooks. "I understand Mr Potter, that you were previously being treated by St Mungo's, why did you stop taking this medication?"

"Because I believed it to be ineffective. It was a potion that helped in the creation of new neural pathways, not the reparation of old ones."

"Did this treatment help you to recover any lost information?"

"I did regain a couple of memories, but these I have put down to circumstance and coincidence."

More furious writing.

"What other methods have you looked into, I see you cancelled your counselling sessions after only one visit, may I ask why?"

"Because I wish to regain all my memories, not just fleeting glimpses. I was also told that counselling could only really help me come to terms with memory loss, not cure it."

There was another stretch of silence while they all wrote.

"Mr Potter, are you aware of the substantial risks and side effects that a procedure like this could cause."

"Not entirely," Harry replied, his tone slightly waspish "As I haven't had an opportunity to read the journals yet."

The woman looked up at him and Harry reminded himself that he needed to remain calm in order to get through this.

"Mr Potter, would you care to explain why you have chosen Professor Snape to examine the research?" Harry couldn't help but notice the clipped voice.

"Because I trust him." He said solidly, noticing the sly looks they gave each other as they wrote down what he'd said.

"And what is the nature of your relationship with the Professor?" she asked, pen poised.

"We are friends and colleagues." He said, trying hard to keep his tongue in check.

"Despite your recent memory loss Mr Potter, are you aware of Professor Snape's current reputation?" Harry frowned slightly at the odd look in the woman's eye, staring at him as though dying to tell him herself.

"I'm not sure what that has to do with anything." Harry said, the woman looked slightly triumphant, "But yes, I am fully aware of Professor Snape's current reputation." Her expression fell. "But unlike most people," he said before his brain could tell him not to, "I can tell the difference between truth and idiocy." She did not like that, and for a moment Harry was worried he had blown it. But the examiner gave him a funny half smile.

"Are you aware Mr Potter, that should this procedure go awry, The Professor will face trial by peers, and if found guilty will receive a substantial sentence to be served out in Azkaban prison."

Harry was not aware of this, and he felt that no matter what happened, he was going to be facing struggles all the way. He dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his face and wondering idly how Severus' examination was going.

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"You are fully aware of the risks of this procedure Professor, why are you so willing to allow Mr Potter undergo this treatment?"

Severus wasn't getting it any easier.

"I am not willing." He said, his temper barely controlled, "I have told you that Mr Potter approached me."

"If you are so unwilling then Professor, then why are you doing this. You know as well as I that there are others who could be interested in a case such as this."

"Because Mr Potter has asked me, as his friend."

"Should friendship become priority over capability?"

"I believe that I am capable of taking on this research."

"Many others would disagree."

Severus clenched his teeth. "What matters is what Mr Potter wants."

"Is Mr Potter aware of other possibilities, other researchers?"

"I'm sure he is, he took it upon himself to pursue this line of enquiry."

The examiner paused for a moment, looking at Severus critically. "What do you hope to gain from this?"

Severus frowned, "I hope to help Mr Potter regain his memories." He said, but his voice held a question, as though daring the man to say what he was really asking.

"Of course," the examiner said flippantly, "But what do you really hope to gain. It seems odd that a man such as yourself, with your reputation, would be willing to take on such a dangerous procedure, with such a high profile client, and seek to gain nothing from it."

"Mr Potter and I have been friends for quite some years now, and colleagues for even longer. I believe we may have reached a stage where he would prefer me, a friend, to take him on rather than a stranger he did not trust." Severus felt his voice rise.

"You are very protective of him Professor, is there anything you wish to tell me?"

"I am protective of all my friends." He replied firmly, hating the smirk that graced the other mans lips.

It would be a bloody miracle if they were allowed to get their hands on the journals.


	13. Chapter 13

The rattle of the letterbox had Harry up and out of bed in record time, taking the stairs two at a time, at a speed that could quite easily break legs he stumbled to an undignified halt just short of the front door, yanking that mornings post from the letterbox. Hastily he flicked through them, carelessly casting them to the floor. Six letters, all neat, white envelopes with plastic fronts, all muggle.

Harry dropped the last letter to the pile that had been growing there for a couple of weeks. It was the same routine he went through every morning, just waiting for any kind of confirmation, even if they said no at this point it would be a relief, just to stop the agonising wait.

With a frustrated sigh he turned to the kitchen, feeling mutinous with himself. He always tried to rationalise with his brain, talk himself out of a sulk but it never worked, the adrenaline from such an early and explosive start would generally keep him nervous and agitated until at least midday when he would sink into a mired state of melancholy.

He set about making something to eat, if only to keep his mind occupied, a task that never actually worked. It felt as though an age had passed since he had sat in the examiners rooms, nearly two hours of questioning had felt like years and left him with a guilty sinking feeling. Although by all means he hadn't had it as hard as Severus, who had the entirely reasonable assumption that the panel were against him. Though they all had their doubts as to the success of their meetings, they had decided not to voice them, but carry on with the belief that given some time the Guild would come around.

They had gone their separate ways, with Severus retreating to his house in order to start setting up and preliminary research and testing, something that would look good in the eyes of those more friendly to their plight. He hadn't seen Harry at all until two weeks later when he had requested he drop by so that he could start taking samples of blood, hair, and all manner of things. Harry had gotten the distinct impression that something was on the other man's mind, they hadn't spoken much since they had first agreed to undertake their course and with each passing day Harry felt more and more guilty for their prolonged silence, but equally unable to figure out how to end it. There was a definite awkwardness to their encounters, an undercurrent of things unsaid and cut off glances which harry felt nervous just thinking about.

It was as though an argument had taken place, that they had said things to hurt one another and were both too stubborn to say sorry. But Harry knew this was not the case, it was just that they were both hopelessly meant to be with each other and that he had royally screwed things up by asking for more time, and had done nothing with it. And it had gone on long enough that he had no clue how to broach the subject, or in fact get passed the awkward, stilted conversations.

It wasn't even as if anything had changed, his stomach still lurched, and his heart beat raced whenever a stray thought of him ran through his mind, his dreams were still plagued with visions of him, and vicious bolts of jealousy and envy shot through him at the sight of any couple, or picture, hell, any TV advert. It was a madness that was slowly driving him insane.

He made himself a bacon sandwich which he took out into the garden, focusing on the warmth of the sun for a while before feeding it to the cats that peered hopefully from around a fence post. He chewed on the corner of the bread for a while contemplating that evening.

Hermione had invited him over for a barbeque, a chance to get out of the house, she had said. He had spent the last couple of days wondering how he could get out of going as he thought himself particularly bad company as of late, in fact, even she hadn't graced his doorway for at least a week, not that he could blame her. But the more and more he thought on it, the more he felt himself a little lighter. It surely would do him good just to get out for a couple of hours, in his house he had developed a slight state of cabin fever and listlessness, and besides, if he went he could at least apologise to Niall for stealing his wife at every opportunity.

He tossed the bread down on the floor, idly wondering if cats ate bread, only for it to be devoured two seconds later by a passing magpie. He stood up and brushed himself down, sending the pack scattering into various hiding holes. Back in the house he contemplated his day, he still had hours until he could reasonably be expected to call round Hermione's, so he threw some clothes on and made his way out of the door and to the station.

His re-familiarisation with London had seen him half heartedly scouting the local area and some of the main shopping areas in the city, so today he aimed for the park, trying not to notice how stuffy the underground was, or how many people were trying to cram their way onto the train, he spent the journey with his head crammed at an angle trying to read the article on the back of a newspaper held two inches from his face. It was with an extensive relief that he reached his destination, near enough running up the steps into the glorious sunshine, he meandered the streets until he reached St. James's.

His relief and the smile on his face were genuine when slowly he sank himself down onto one of the benches that lined the path. This was his place, his London. On a beautiful day, with the sun beating down and a gentle breeze that cooled his face as he watched the world go by. He passed the time by watching the ducks, the children, the children feeding the ducks, and the ducks chasing the children. His eyes happily skated past the couple sat on the bench to his right, dismissing them as not there before they rested on the apparently tame squirrels, which were running rings around the tourists and earning themselves quite a few treats.

His thoughts were interrupted by the unfamiliar and frankly unsettling feeling of his mobile phone vibrating in his pocket. Fighting with his jeans he eventually pulled it out, staring at the number that was flashing up on the screen, he frowned and answered the call. "Hello?"

"Harry, its Severus." Despite the slightly dodgy reception, his voice still sang, dark and hypnotic from the other end of the line, and Harry's through suddenly tightened, his chest clenching painfully.

"Hello." His voice was quite, and he almost stammered as he hurriedly forced himself to calm down. He cleared his throat.

There was a slight pause at the other end. "Are you alright?"

"Yes! Er…yes." Harry flustered, hating modern technology and the ability to completely throw him off his game. "Sorry, you just surprised me, that's all."

There was another pause, which Harry felt the need to fill. "It's just that no-one ever rings me, you see." He explained.

"Oh, right." Harry was almost glad to hear that Severus seemed to be having trouble handling the start of this conversation too, but it only served to remind him why that was. "Well, I shan't keep you long, I just wanted to let you know that I received a letter from the guild this morning stating that they are prepared to release the research."

A flood of emotion ran through him, "Really?!" he gasped, his stomach turning over as he pressed the phone closer to his ear, he felt the grin spreading across his face. "That's…that's fantastic!" he laughed.

Perhaps his relief was contagious; because he was sure he could feel the tension in the other man's voice ease away. "I suppose you could say that," He said, "But it still won't be released for another couple of days, and we will all need to go and sign for it, but it's definately a start."

Harry closed his eyes. "I don't even know what to say." He felt himself laugh; the sheer relief that ran through him was euphoric. "That's amazing news."

"Well, it certainly sounds like it's cheered you up." Severus said softly, and Harry's heart ached at the timbre in his voice.

"It has." He paused, not really knowing what to say and regretting that he were not here to tell him in person. The silence dragged on, made infinitely more uncomfortable by the fact that Harry couldn't see his face, couldn't guess at what he may be thinking. There was a sigh at the other end of the phone. "Well, I should probably let you…"

"Severus?" Harry heard himself falter as he interrupted him.

"Yes?"

Biting his lip, he carried on before he could let himself back out. "Hermione is having a bit of a get together tonight."

"Yes, I know, she did say." He sounded imperceptibly sad.

"Are you coming?" Harry felt a fresh burst of nervousness bloom through him as he waited anxiously for a response.

"I thought about it." Severus admitted, "But I'm not sure."

"Oh." The way Harry's stomach dropped was sickening. "Right." He paused, very aware of the silence at the other end. "It's just, well, it would be kinda nice to just relax, you know. We've all been so tense for ages, it seemed like a nice idea, and…"

"Harry…"

"It's, just, now you've told me that as well, I thought that…"

"Harry?"

"Yes?" he stopped, red faced at his rambling.

"I'll see you tonight." His body seemed to freeze and he could only listen as the end of the line went dead. Slowly he breathed and thumbed at the red button on his phone as he smiled, swallowing at the dryness in his throat. He felt himself laugh again, but for an entirely different reason.

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Predictably, Harry was the first to arrive, but it was more to Hermione's relief than ire, owing to the fact that Niall had invited more people that they honestly thought would show up. Harry spent the next two hours helping out with potato salads, cutting up rolls and hunting around for things to prod the coals with. She was fairly ecstatic at the news about the research and spoke with such vehemence and articulating that it took half an hour just to make a salad.

"And he said he would come tonight?" She asked, wiping her hands on a towel as Harry finished telling her about his earlier conversation with Severus.

"Well, he said he would see me tonight, so I guess that means he is." He said, shrugging his shoulders and helping himself to another beer. "He said he hadn't been sure though" his forehead creased into a frown, and Hermione could tell that he was blaming himself for that fact.

"I'm not really surprised." She said softly, noting how Harry looked up at her, she doubted the puppy dog eyes were on purpose. "Things have seemed a little up in the air for a while, I would say you know what he's like but…" She waved her hand. "He's one of those people Harry, he's naturally unsure, especially when it comes to people. Society in general has pushed him away for as long as he can remember, even now, despite all of us who love him, I think he still finds it hard to believe. And now he's even more lost without you." Harry looked down at his bottle. "I'm not blaming you of course, but just think back to how it felt at school, when any of us argued. Without each other, we suddenly felt very lost and alone."

Harry nodded, continuing to pick at the label on the glass. "I suppose your right, its just…. This feels like so much more than that. I mean…. Oh, I don't know."

"You told each other how you feel." She said softly, "That's not an easy thing to do at the best of times, but given the circumstances, of course things would be harder. You've both laid yourself bare, and you feel awkward and vulnerable. You have to trust each other, you especially. But Harry," she laid a hand on his arm, making him look up. "I wonder if perhaps you losing all this was a good thing, you can be free from the pain, free to actually start something new, something fresh. God knows you deserve it."

"I know." Harry muttered, "There's just a part of me that thinks it would be unfair, for both of us."

"Are you seriously considering it?" she asked, her voice quiet and mindful of the fact that one of Niall's friends was ambling back and forth through the house.

"I don't know." He answered, his voice lost and distant. "I don't know what to think, or what to do. There's a part of me that wants nothing more. I don't know why, but I'm terrified."

"Why? It's not as though he would reject you."

"Wouldn't he? I'm not the same anymore, I've changed, what if that would be too much. What if I'm not the person he wants anymore, I don't know how to be for him. All I can feel is this, stupid bloody pressure I've put on myself. And the more I think of it, the more my mind rebels at the idea." He paced the bottle down hard on the counter and ran a hand roughly though his hair, his breathing fast.

"Whoa, calm down." Hermione replaced the bowl of salad she had just picked up and tugged Harry's hand away from his hair. "Just relax, you're over thinking things, your being too hard on yourself." She ran her hand up his arm. "Just, try not to think about it too much, enjoy the night. And remember, its only ever you who decides anything, ever. Okay?"

Harry peered out the window into the sunlit garden. "Okay." He nodded, releasing a pent up breath. He caught her worried glance and cast her an easy smile, "Thank you." He said warmly, and picked up his beer. "You want a hand with those?" he asked, pointing at the stack of dishes.

Conversation over, he helped Hermione take everything out to the heaving tables round the back where Niall and a couple of his work friends were stoking the coals on the barbeque.


	14. Chapter 14

Seven o'clock came and went, and the party was just about getting into full swing, Harry sat happily ensconced in one of the garden chairs that Niall had dragged from the shed with Neville's help and now he sat talking animatedly with his former classmate, catching up on old times and being filled in on some of his more sedate adventures while Hermione leaned against the side of his chair.

He checked his watch again, for what must have been the second time that minute, something that had not escaped the attention of those around him.

"What's up Harry? Got a date?" Neville laughed, genially accepting another beer from dean as the other slumped into another chair.

Harry laughed uneasily, "No, nothing like that." He said, offering up no further explanation. He smiled up at Hermione who looked at him shrewdly. Just as she opened her mouth, the far off sound of the doorbell drifted over the music and voices, and Harry's hands clenched the arms of the chair in a vice like grip. "I'll get it."

She left harry with the others and dodged her way through the small crowd to find Niall already at the door and showing Severus in. "Alright mate, always nice to see you." He clapped him on the back, mindful of his coal blackened fingers as he did so. "Harry's out the back." He smiled. "Gotta dash, left some burgers on that should be done by now." He pecked Hermione on the cheek as he moved back into the house. The short encounter had left Severus looking a little wide eyed.

"Sorry about him," Hermione smiled, "He gets a bit excited about party's, he never really gets much chance to host them. Let me take that." She took his coat from him and hung it up on the already over laden hat stand. "Harry told me about the research." She said happily. "He seems really excited about it, I think he's been a bit down lately with the lack of movement from the Guild, but he's definitely brightened up tonight. Even if he is a bit….jumpy." She finished her sentence carefully, eyeing the other man.

"Jumpy?" Severus frowned slightly.

"Yeah," she motioned him forwards into the kitchen where she busied herself with sorting out glasses. "Well, he's been bouncing off the walls all afternoon, and don't tell him I've noticed, but he looks damn near close to death every time the door rings." She laughed quietly. "Wine?" She held up a bottle.

Severus seemed to shake himself. "Er…yes, he's what?" he looked slightly perplexed, watching as she went through the motions of finding a corkscrew and opening the bottle, all the while looking as though she were having an argument in her own head. She muttered something as the bottle opened, carefully laying down the corkscrew, she looked fixedly at the glass on the counter.

"He's waiting for you." She answered softly, leaving the silence as long as it took to fill the glass and hand it to him with a significant look. He merely looked back at her, clearly unable to think of what to say.

"Look Severus, I don't know exactly what was said, and I'm fully aware that none of it is anything to do with me. But he's tearing himself apart. He doesn't know how to do right by you." She looked over his shoulder to where she could see Harry sat with Neville and Dean, his focus clearly directed at the kitchen where he could see them talking. She scowled at him which sent his attention back to the conversation, leaving her free to talk without being watched. "I just think that now the research can go ahead, now might be a good time to talk to him, maybe just try and relax the atmosphere. You're going to be spending more time together as it is."

She watched as Severus whirled his glass around, eyeing the dark liquid as though perhaps it might hold the answers. He was silent for a long time, and made to speak a couple times before silencing himself again. He casually glanced around to find Harry looking back at him, a minute glance that was abruptly cut off. He sighed heavily. "It's not that I don't want to speak to him, or that I can't." he said quietly, "I just can't help but feel that there is this distance between us now, some obstacle that I don't know how to get around. I'm not entirely sure where to start if I'm honest." He paused as he drank

"I think perhaps, that he feels the same way." Hermione added in a hopeful voice. "I don't know," she muttered, pouring herself a glass and topping his up, "maybe tonight is a good idea." She smiled at him, and took his arm, escorting him out into the garden.

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Harry watched as Severus moved from person to person, talking and smiling with people that Harry could only assume he might have met, but had no recollection of. He seemed slightly uncomfortable, as if he weren't entirely at ease with the crowd of people, or the music, or how every now and then someone would laugh raucously, the sound grating in the cooling night air.

Harry tried to keep an ear on the conversation around him, his distraction evident but was left without comment as his eyes darted from the drink in his hand to the small knot of people standing near the lanterns. Twice he had made to stand up, to go over and slide in next to him. But his legs wouldn't follow what his brain was telling him to do, and each time he tried the panicked feeling fluttered in his stomach enough for him to have to drink half a bottle just to feel the cool liquid extinguish it.

He turned himself back to Dean who was busy retelling the very old story of when they had all gone late night swimming in the castle grounds, and Neville lost his shorts, he conveniently left out that it was because of a giant squid for the benefit of the few muggles at the party, but his spirited impression of Neville's girlish screams still made them laugh. Even Harry laughed genuinely, glad that he could finally join in on something he remembered, even tossing in his own remark. He drank the last of his drink, tipping his head back to finish it before he placed it on the floor and stood up to get another.

"Here." Another bottle was placed in his line of sight, and the proximity of that voice to his ear nearly sent him to an early death.

"Jesus." Harry gasped, turning round to face Severus. "I think you damn near killed me." He blew out a breath as he took the proffered bottle, taking a quick mouthful.

"Sorry, I could see you were nearly empty, and I was on my way over." He looked Harry over as the colour came back to his face. "Sorry I took so long, people just kept talking to me." He gave a small smile.

"No, that's…er, that's okay. Me and the guys were just reminiscing." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder where Dean was still making girly screams and being hit by Neville. "Well, they were reminiscing, I was trying to keep up." He attempted to laugh, but was hit by something indefinable as he looked up into dark eyes. It had been the longest they had actually looked each other in the eye for weeks, and the sudden feeling of vulnerability and nakedness made Harry want to run, but instead he clenched the bottle tightly in his hand and offered up a tremulous smile. "How have you been?" he asked quietly.

He saw the way Severus glanced around him, and that the conversation behind him had dimmed significantly, as though everybody else had picked up on the tension between them. And it was with a mixture of trepidation and relief that he followed Severus when he inclined his head to a quieter area for them to talk. "I'm good." He offered, "I haven't really done much apart from the set up, but you know about that anyway. I've just been trying to read up, that's all." He turned and leaned on the low wall that fenced the garden, and gave a reproachful look to Hermione who was not so furtively looking in their direction. "How are you?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Harry replied, "Been going a bit crazy cooped up in my house so much, I try to go wondering, but everything is still a bit weird." He shrugged and smiled. "But, hopefully that will get better soon."

"Well, as soon as the journals are released we will get started." He sounded hesitant and clipped as he said it, and Harry noticed the way he didn't look up at him, looked everywhere else but him.

"Severus, I…"

"There you are!" Harry jumped as their quiet conversation was interrupted. He had to take a step back as a girl about Harry's age draped herself along one side of Severus, her hand gripping at the front of his shirt as she gazed up at him with a drunken smile. "I thought maybe you'd left, and you didn't come say goodbye." She pouted.

To his credit, Severus looked deeply uncomfortable at the interruption and had only just stopped his drink from spilling as she firmly attached herself to him. "No, I just came to talk to my friend." He said, again, looking everywhere but at Harry. The girl looked up and eyes him narrowly.

"Well, I'm sure your friend won't mind if I borrow you for a while." She whispered loudly.

"Actually…" Harry started.

"Good!" she yelped, her hand already tugging on his arm. Harry almost laughed at the expression on his face. "We need to finish that conversation we started." She purred.

Harry smirked at this, "I really think he…"

"What?" the girl turned on him, "What does he …?"

The conversations lulled, all focus on them. Harry reeled back, shocked at the sudden venom in her voice. He heard Hermione calling the girls name, but he couldn't make it out for the life of him.

"I just think, that perhaps Severus would rather finish our conversation before he finishes yours." Harry answered, only becoming fully aware at how drunk the girl was and how smoothly Severus was trying to extricate himself from her grasp.

"Do you?" she countered, her arm tightening its hold again, her drink sloshing merrily about in its glass. Harry could feel every eye on him. "Well, I think you'll find we were talking before you were talking, ya little fucking upstart."

A host of cries and laughs went up, the screech and thud of a chair being hastily vacated and suddenly Hermione was there, full of apologies, and trying to take the girl away. "Do you make all his decisions for him? Eh?" she carried on over Hermione's hurried words. "Who are you, eh? His boyfriend?" she laughed, and the group who had come with her joined in. "Ahh, do you love him!" she cackled, seemingly hysterical at her own wit.

Harry felt himself turning scarlet, not daring to look at anyone he knew, instead focusing on Niall as he tried to turn the girl around, and Hermione muttering that perhaps it was time she went home. Thankfully most of the party's attention followed the meandering track of the girl as she was escorted to the far end of the garden where she was told to shut up and sit down. Her derisive laughs and cackles still floated back through the air to Harry as Hermione rushed up to them.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry." She flustered, looking helplessly at them both. "I don't know what to say, I don't know how she got so drunk. Oh, I'm so sorry Harry." She gripped at his wrist. But Harry barely felt it. Couldn't even hear her, just the echoed remnants of the girl's laughter in his ear as she jeered at him, 'do you love him?'

He felt ill, his heart thumped sickeningly in his chest and his stomach felt like it would never stop sinking, and he was achingly, agonisingly aware of Severus looking at him. At his reddened face, and wide eyes that clearly must betray him.

"Harry?" Hermione squeezed his wrist again. The motion roused him from his stupor long enough for him to put his drink down, mutter an apology and make an exit quick enough to leave his friends staring after him in abject bewilderment.

By the time he'd made it halfway down the street, Harry wasn't even aware of whether he'd closed the front door or not, or how many steps he'd run down, or even how many houses he'd passed. He was only just aware of his senses coming back to him, of his laboured breathing that made the sick panic in his chest even more unbearable. How he crossed the road unscathed he didn't know, because he wasn't paying any attention, his eyes unseeing as his feet pounded a relentless rhythm on the concrete. His body leading him onwards as his mind ran round and round in dizzying circles.

He loved him.

It wasn't just any stupid infatuation, yes he'd known that. It was far stronger than that. I would have had to be in order to make him feel like he was going to pass out or hyperventilate whenever he saw him. He had always known within him, even in his denial, that it was more than that.

But love.

That's why he was terrified. Because this was it. Truly it. Because if he messed it up, there was no coming back. It was why he had spent the last few weeks so utterly inconsolable, and restless, and aching. It was why he had found it so hard to believe. That he could possibly feel so strongly for one person was a notion inconceivable to him, and yet the evidence had been throwing itself in his face since the day he'd woken up. He had been blinded by his own denial, of everyone else telling him how he should feel. He had never just taken a step back. He felt a sob rise in his throat, and with it brought the sting of tears. How could he be what he needed to be. How could he possibly be good for him now, so broken, so vulnerable.

But god, did he ache. To just turn around, and run back to him.

"Harry!" he stopped automatically, only now noticing that his feet had brought him to a nearby courtyard, its gates still open despite the waning light only just visible through the thick of trees. "Harry!" again he was called, as if he could run from that voice, as if he could even turn away.

Severus had only just caught up with him as he turned into the courtyard, his shout bringing him to a halt, his last few steps brought him up close, just as Harry turned, and Severus was pained to see the tears on is face.

He really was far too beautiful when he cried.

"Harry?" he could barely muster a whisper. "What's wrong?" he held out his hand, his fingers held a hairs breadth away as though almost afraid to touch. He could only watch as Harry's eyes found his, and something deep inside him break.

"I can't." he muttered brokenly. "I don't think I can be who you want me to be."

Severus couldn't help the frown that flickered across his face. "I don't understand." He said, shaking his head as Harry's face turned to the floor.

"It hurts. So much, and every day." His voice was thick with tears. "And I still don't know what to do, or what not to do." He shook his head.

Just another inch forward saw Severus's hand run smoothly up Harry's arm to rest on his shoulder as he remembered what Hermione had said to him earlier that evening. "I don't want you to be anything other than who you are." He whispered, feeling the way his slim shoulder jerked with his sobs underneath his hand.

"But I already am. I'm not who I was, I'm not the person you wanted." He said the words as though he actually believed them.

Harry felt the weight of Severus' hand joined on his other shoulder, the heat of his palms soaking through the light shirt he wore. Still he couldn't bring himself to look up again, even when the other man took another step closer, bringing them barely a hands width apart. And when he spoke, he could feel it. "I don't know how to convince you Harry. I don't know how to make you see yourself through my eyes, or what words I can use to make you realise that none of that matters, what does matter is you. And you are exactly the same. Just because things up here have changed," Harry's skin thrilled with the feeling of long, deft fingers carding into his hair and resting against his face, a sudden rush that made him gasp, his eyes closing of their own volition. "Doesn't mean you have here." The hand in his hair drifted softly, smoothly down his neck, over his collarbone until it rested firmly, persistently against the wild beating of his heart. "And its here, that matters." The words were spoken so lowly, so quiet in the gloom that harry leaned forward to hear them. "That's all that's ever mattered Harry."

Something smoothed over the aching cracks in Harry's heart, the unbearable agony retreating as he allowed his hands to reach up, fingers grasping and twining in the soft cotton of his shirt. Slowly, inch by inch he raised his face, eyes climbing up the details in front of him, of buttons, and light and shade, and the contrast his skin made against the dark of his shirt, until hesitantly they glanced upwards at eyes that were so much darker in the night. His mouth grasped at something to say, but his mind dismissed it as unnecessary as it registered the gentle heat of their mingled breath washing over his lips, a pull so undeniable there was nothing that could have stopped the way he leaned towards him, eyes sliding to a close with perfect precision as finally they met. And it was as though something exploded within him, but he needn't have worried, because soon enough, arms strong enough to hold him up and hold him together had wound around his waist, pulling him close. His lips parted and he sighed in submission, his body trembling as he fought to keep up with his racing mind, such a difficult task to do when hands previously at his waist smooth upwards to caress his face, running through hair to grip and pull him deeper into the most devastating kiss. So painfully wrought with emotion it was a wonder they could still breathe, all Harry could feel was a consuming passion, a flood of adrenaline that kept climbing higher and higher, pushing ever more forcefully through his veins until his entire awareness was of where their lips met, where tongue glided over tongue, and breaths wove around each other, to where it felt as though his soul was welling up, trying desperately to spill over, growing ever more frenzied until with a final motion of his hand, Severus pulled them apart, breath heavy and damp in the rapidly cooling air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It comes to an end here, folks.  
> Feel free to make up your own ending! I hope you enjoyed none the less.:)


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